


The Scars that Bind Us

by Nanso



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Aegon and Rhaenys Targaryen Live, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Benjen Stark Deserves Some Love, Dragons, Elia Martell Lives, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Forbidden Love, Lots of Angst, Rare Pairings, Rhaenys Centric, Rhaenys Targaryen Lives, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Water Magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2020-12-26 23:49:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 73,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21109202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nanso/pseuds/Nanso
Summary: Rhaegar won but there were severe costs beyond the battlefield.And one forbidden romance leads to others.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of betrayals - and the beginning of it all.

_ Winterfell, 282 AC _

Dark wings, dark words. 

Benjen Stark was two and ten when he received the scroll that would haunt him for his days to come. 

It should have been a letter regaling him with tales from Brandon and Catelyn’s wedding. _ I wonder how many people Brandon got into a fight with at the wedding celebration, _ Benjen thought to himself with a laugh. 

When he tore open the seal quickly to read about raucous and fun stories from his brother’s wedding, he had to read the letter a few times before the contents truly sunk in. 

_ This isn’t real. _

There were no tidings of the wedding. Instead the message said the Targaryen Prince had kidnapped his sister Lyanna, and his father and oldest brother were dead after Brandon went to the capitol to demand Rhaegar bring her back. The King had killed them, and now his other brother - _ only brother _ \- was riding to war with Robert Baratheon and Jon Arryn. 

“No!” he wailed.

_ This wasn’t supposed to happen! She told me she wanted to run away with the Prince. How did everything get turned around? Didn’t she say she would explain to them? _

Did only he know? 

He could feel himself swaying as the room seemed to spin around him. 

“How did this happen?” he asked into the air. Everything became slower and faster all at once. His eyes landed on the window, trying to focus on the branches of the trees, on the snow that was falling heavily as winter began in full force. But it was all a blur as the darkness crept in. 

_ Father. Dead. _

_ Brandon. Dead. _

His hand opened, and the scroll of cursed tidings dropped to the floor. 

_ I should have told father - or at least Ned - after Harrenhal. They’re gone and there’s a war. _

_ Lya, why didn’t you tell them? _

_ Why didn’t I? _

His knees buckled beneath him and he crumpled to the floor, burying his face into his hands as a flood of tears poured out. The last thing he remembered before darkness took him was the salt in his mouth, water slipping through his fingers and the searing pain of guilt and betrayal consuming him inside. 

***************

_ King’s Landing, 283 AC _

As Princess Rhaenys crouched under the bed, she said a prayer to the Seven. 

Holding her black kitten, she whispered into his fur, “Don’t worry, Balerion. Papa will come. Papa will come.” 

There was a moment where all was silent but for the waves that gently crashed outside the windows of the room, the Blackwater seemingly calm. And so she waited for her father. 

But her father didn’t come - not before a loud, vicious man grabbed her legs and pulled her from underneath her father’s bed. 

“No!!! Let me go!!!! Let me go!! Please!! Papa!!!” she screamed, trying to kick her legs and get away from the man. 

“Shut up, ya’ filthy dragon! Stop movin’!! Quicker you shut up, quicker this is over,” he yelled, hitting her across the face. She yelped as she felt a sharp pain on her cheek, her palm finding blood when she pressed it to her face. He moved to get a dagger out of his belt and she took the chance to run. But it only made him angrier and he caught her, raising his arm above her.

Then pain shot through her, lines searing her stomach. She let out a deep cry and watched as her favorite bedgown turned red. 

“I told you to STOP MOVIN’, I sa-” but before he could finish, the tip of a sword came out of his stomach. 

He croaked as blood spurt out onto her face, his body falling as she scrambled to get away from it. When she looked away from the body of her tormentor, she saw Ser Jaime breathing heavily, holding a bloody sword. 

“Rhaenys!!” he crouched down, and lifted her dress to find her wounds. The dagger has entered her stomach once with a few more superficial slashes, but none were so deep that she would die, he realized. But he knew she needed a maester quickly if it were to remain that way. He cut a piece of cloth from his cloak and pressed it to her stomach. She let out a cry of pain. 

“I’m so sorry, I know it hurts,” he said as he scooped her up in his arms. “You must hold that cloth here, Princess. We have to go to your mother and baby brother. They’re safe, and you are too now - I promise I won’t let anyone hurt you.” She pressed on the cloth, wincing, and laid her head against his armored chest. He gave a swift kick to the head of Rhaenys’s assailant to ensure he was out cold, before running to the other side of the room. There he stopped for a moment to look at the wall. 

“Scheming spider said to hit the stone…,” he muttered, “...here.” He pushed a stone by her father’s bookshelf and a small portion of the wall creaked open. He slipped in and the wall closed behind them. “Stay with me, little sun, I promised your mother you would live - and you will.” And then they escaped, a small kitten running beside them with unheard echoes for a father fading into the darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to my very angsty romance based entirely off the idea of a rarepair! 
> 
> Like - real angsty. 
> 
> Also I own nothing, everything belongs to GRRM

* * *

_ 298_

_ King’s Landing _

Sometimes when Rhaenys listened to the waters of the sea, to the waves rolling and crashing around her, they brought her comfort; lulled her into beats of calm where her breath was steady, and it felt easier to breathe. 

But every so often, the sound, the rhythm the waves took on would take her back to the waves she heard the night she was attacked. It was in those moments that she always had to fight to find her other senses to help bring her out of the darkness. So in this particular moment, it was touch and smell that brought her back - touch of parchment beneath her fingers and the faintest scent of rubbed ink on her fingertips. 

She opened her eyes with a deep breath, regaining herself and her surroundings and focused on the letter in her hands. Rhaenys loved getting letters from Maester Aemon. Their many times great Uncle felt like a treasure to her, hidden from the deception and frivolity of King’s Landing. Corresponding with him had been one of the few ways she could feel peaceful after they were attacked all those years ago. 

She rose from her seat and paced, still bringing her breath back to steadiness. Going over Aemon’s latest letter again, she found herself thinking of how much more she wanted to ask him. It would be so much easier if she could talk to him in person instead of relying on the devastatingly slow method of ravens and letters. She was shaken from her thoughts when she heard people approaching from behind her and already knew who it was. 

Rising with a sigh, she turned around to face him. “Your Grace,” she said flatly watching as her father approached, Ser Barristan and Ser Arthur behind him. His jaw ticked at the formal address as it always did when she called him that. She derived a small pleasure from it. 

“Hello Rhaenys,” he said softly. “I received a letter from Aemon as well. Perhaps we could walk and discuss his latest news?”

It felt like some kind of perverse punishment from the Gods that she had read up on that damned prophecy just as much as him. It first started with her trying to understand his _ alleged _ reason for abandoning them all those years ago. And then something latched in her and she fell deeper into the scrolls and texts. She wasn’t as far gone as him by any measure nor did she believe in the prophecy, but she was fascinated by the Long Night nonetheless. There had been accounts by the Rhoynish of a similar event, as well as in Yi Ti. It seemed no mere coincidence that these three disparate regions would write of the same tale. It felt like a puzzle she couldn’t quite crack and she desperately wanted to. 

It was perhaps the only thing she would talk about with her father, though even then, their discussions could only last for so long and she always felt he viewed it more about himself than about others. And then she eventually always remembered the disgust and resentment she felt towards him over his actions - _ and how it nearly got us all killed _\- and the conversation would end then and there. 

She was around nine when she first learned of what he did - and how it related to the night she, Aegon and their mother were attacked. After that, her relationship with her father was, at best, cordial, despite his attempts to win her trust back. 

She eyed him before replying. “If you desire.” He smiled at her and she had to fight the urge to roll her eyes. They began to walk through the gardens back towards the Red Keep. 

She spoke first, thinking perhaps it would end this encounter sooner. “He writes of odd tidings from beyond the Wall - a King there that has united clans. But he says the wildlings are also fleeing in larger numbers. Some that they’ve caught, the few that talk of…the dead,” she said cautiously. 

He hummed. “It seems Lord Stark also recently caught a ranger who deserted. He spoke of white walkers until the blade fell. Stark wrote to the Lord Commander of it, apparently thinking the man mad, perhaps making up a desperate excuse for desertion,” he said looking over at her seriously. “But Aemon thinks otherwise.” 

That was not something mentioned in her letter. Her interest was piqued even more now. “Did he say anything else about the deserter?” she asked earnestly. Rhaegar shook his head, deep in thought.

She fell into her thoughts then too, as they continued to walk. “I’ve been thinking - perhaps I could go to the Wall and meet Uncle Aemon finally. I could get more accounts of what is happening beyond the Wall, find out more about this King and the deserter’s account?” 

He stopped in his tracks and she could see he was seriously considering it. “Yes, I think that would be very wise. At the very least, it couldn’t hurt, and I haven’t gone to the Wall in years A trip North would be a very good idea, I think,” he said as though he came up with it. 

_ I didn’t mean you! _she wanted to shout. She was just trying to figure out a way to tell him that she had not meant for him to go too when Jon appeared by them. “North? Who’s going North?” he asked excitedly. 

Rhaenys smiled in relief at the interruption by her brother. Many people were surprised to find that the King’s children were as close as they were. In fact, she was fairly sure some had even attempted to drive wedges between them. Many whispered ‘bastard’ at court, questioning if Jon’s mother and their father truly were wed. When she'd been old enough to understand how he came to be, it took her time to reconcile herself to seeing him as the baby brother she had before. But as they grew, the princess had also witnessed the guilt Jon harbored for his origins. After all, he did not ask to be born to a pair of fools. 

Rhaegar smiled at him. “Jaehaerys. Rhaenys and I were just discussing the idea of taking a trip to the Wall.”

The dark-haired prince's face lit up. “We could go to Winterfell too! You could finally visit and meet my cousins, right, Rhae?" he asked hopefully. 

Rhaenys tried to stifle the cringe she felt at the suggestion. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, little brother. I doubt very much they would want…” she looked to their father, “so many visitors in their home.” _ That sounds like a good excuse, right? _“Perhaps just you, me and Egg could go?” Jon was practically bouncing at the idea. They looked at their father. She did not want their father to come, and a visit to Winterfell was the perfect excuse for him not to join.

He seemed to take the hint. “Well, I think Aegon would need to stay, but you and Jon could go. I think that would suffice to show the Watch the Crown still cares and get more information on Aemon’s tidings,” he said slightly dejected. A wince of regret pulsed through her at his disappointment but she shook it away. 

“Ser Barristan, perhaps we can go and discuss guard preparations for this trip?” 

Ser Barristan gave him a nod. “Of course, my King.”

Rhaegar moved to Rhaenys and took her hand in his, causing her to tense slightly. “I’m glad you suggested this, Rhaenys.” She gave him a tight smile. He looked at her for a few moments before releasing her hand to leave with the Kingsguard. 

When he was out of ear shot, she turned back to her brother. “Are you sure it’s a good idea for me to go to Winterfell? I doubt very much they would want to welcome a Targaryen into their home,” Rhaenys asked cautiously. 

“I’m a Targaryen too, you know,” he replied dryly. 

“I know that, but you are also a Stark,” she told him gently. Their family history had always been hard for Jon to come to terms with as he got older. His mother and their father ran off with each other, a spark that lit the fire had already been waiting to engulf the realm. And then one grandfather killed the other, not to mention an uncle he never met. It was, in a word, complicated. It had been his relationship with her and Aegon, as well as their mother Elia and his Stark cousins, that helped Jon find himself. 

“Please, Rhae. All I do is talk about you and Egg when I go there. They don’t hold father’s actions against you two, just as they don’t hold me responsible for his or my mother’s.” His eyes were wide and pleading now. 

She rolled her eyes but smiled at him. “Fine. Gods, I hate that I can’t say no to you.” 

He gave her a wolfish grin then before picking her up and spinning her around the courtyard as she laughed and yelled for him to put her down. 

When she was back on solid ground, she gazed over to the waters of the Blackwater Rush and the shadows that danced over it. 

“But I don’t know if they are ready to go North just yet, seeing as we can’t ride them and they’re still small. Perhaps we can leave them on Dragonstone with Dany to be safe.” 

As though they had heard her, the beautiful creatures that were bonded to her and Jon screeched in mild protest as they flew over the water. 

“It’s one thing for two Targaryens to go North now. It’s an entirely different thing to bring actual dragons,” she said with a sigh. 

*************

_ Haunted Forest, beyond the Wall _

Benjen brought his horse to a slow trot before coming to a stop and jumping off. He tied the steed to the closest tree as the other Night’s Watch rangers he was with began to make camp. He loved the Haunted Forest. He could forget the past in the thick of the ancient trees, their roots and branches melding together to engulf him. 

As the wind blew, he turned to look into the distance. “We’ll be here just for the night,” he called out to the others. “I’ll return soon. I - I want to survey an area nearby.” He wasn’t sure what it was that made him move away from camp and into the trees, but he knew he had to go. Something was drawing him to the thick patch of trees that he wove his wave through. 

Finally he came to a clearing and when he was firmly out in the open, he stopped in his tracks and sucked in a breath. 

A giant beast stood before him. Large and imposing with dark midnight blue fur. 

A direwolf. 

Piercing eyes like the sun stared at him. He knew Ned and the children had found a mother and her pups a year or so back, but it didn’t make this encounter any less jarring. Benjen began to walk backwards slowly, but stopped when he saw the wolf’s next move. He or she sat first and inclined its head towards him it seemed, still staring at him. 

He must have been mad because in that moment he seemed to believe the wolf would not harm him. So he went forward until he found himself on bended knee before the beast with an outstretched palm. 

“Hello.” 

The beast licked Benjen’s hand before nudging his head with her - it was a her - head, as though to say,_ let’s go. _

Benjen rose, looking at the wolf with a question in his eyes. 

She began to walk towards camp and turned to look back at him, silently asking him to follow - and he did. 

Nothing was said as they walked together through the black of night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note on ages: Rhaenys is 18 at the beginning of the story, Benjen is 28. Aegon is 16, soon to be 17 and Jon is 15.


	3. Chapter 3

Rhaenys was surveying her room, trying to think if there was anything else she might need on the journey when there was a knock at the door. 

She called out for the guest to enter and when the door opened, it was Ser Jaime. 

“A visitor, princess,” he said with his a small smile. After he stepped aside, the queen walked in.

“So, you are truly leaving," she said quietly looking about at the large trunk to the side and the satchel on the bed. "How will Aegon and I survive without you?” she asked her daughter with a sad smile. 

The princess walked towards her briskly before enveloping her in a tight embrace. “You could come too, you know? It’s not _ that _ cold,” she said, mumbling into her hair, in a tone that wasn’t terribly convincing. She took in a deep breath, trying to commit the smell of her mother to memory. Rhaenys wanted to see more, know more. But she also knew she would miss her mother and Aegon, painfully so. 

Elia pulled back from their embrace and brushed some hair away from her daughter's face gently. “I will miss you both so much, I hope you know that. Please be careful. And please do not let Jon goad you into too much training,” she said teasingly.

Rhaenys answered with a mild scoff. "He knows better, I'm much better than him. Well, sometimes."

“Just...try to enjoy yourself but be safe, hmm?” 

She let out a small laugh. "I promise,” she said before they hugged each other once more. 

“And you mustn't forget to write,” she said in a whisper, her voice breaking slightly with emotion. She pulled back, wiping away escaping tears and smoothing her dress. 

Rhaenys gave her a kiss on the cheek with a quick grin before picking up her satchel. “I promise.” 

************************** 

_Winterfell, a month or so later _

There was only a thin layer of summer snow, but faint clouds of white created a calming haze around them, shooting up from the horses’ hooves as they galloped towards Winterfell. It had been two years since Jon was last here. He had visited his birth mother’s home many times but during that last visit, he’d gotten to spend a whole year here. It had felt like pure freedom to be away from court life, though being away from his siblings and Elia had been extremely difficult. 

Jon pulled on the reins of his horse to slow their pace as his sister did the same, drawing up to his position as they came to a halt at the top of the hill. 

“It’s beautiful,” Rhaenys breathed, taking in the view. “I can’t believe this is where you’ve gotten to spend so much time while we suffocated in King’s Landing, Jon,” she said as they gazed at the ancient castle. 

Jon smiled at her. His joy had increased tenfold when his sister agree to come here with him. He wanted her to know his family here and see the beauty of the North just like he had gotten to know Dorne with her and Aegon. And it didn’t hurt if perhaps it could mend some of the lingering tensions from the Rebellion. 

“Rhae, you’re going to love it here, I know it,” he told her with a grin. “And they will love you.” 

She looked hesitant. “Let’s hope so...“ she muttered before looking down to their companion who had trotted and stopped in between their horses. “But if I’m half as happy here as he is, then you speak true,” she said nodding down. 

Nearly blending into the snow with his white fur, Jon’s direwolf Ghost had run to sit between their two horses, though saying he was sitting wasn't necessarily correct. He was _ trying _ to sit, but barely doing so, his excitement to be back with his siblings clearly palpable. The litter of direwolves had been found the last time Jon visited. After their mother birthed the six pups, they each latched themselves onto a Stark child - all five of his Uncle Ned’s children and Ghost to him. And then after their birth, the mother had refused to leave his Uncle Ned’s side. 

Jon laughed. “Aye, sometimes I feel bad keeping him down in King’s Landing. I think he may be the happiest of all of us to be here,” Jon said before his smile disappeared. “I wish Egg could have come too.” 

“As do I - I’m quite sure he does too. But there was no way he could have left with the betrothal to Margaery just announced. Not to mention father insisting he attend small council meetings now,” she grumbled. “Thank the Gods he has mother and Lord Arryn to keep him steady.” 

Jon nodded at that. It was well known that the only reason any true peace or stability had been achieved after the rebellion was because of Queen Elia and Jon Arryn. In fact, it had been the Dornish queen that suggested Lord Arryn as Hand as part of a way of appeasing the rebellious houses. 

“Are you two going to stay here all day? I thought we were meant to _ visit _Winterfell, not stare at it,” came a voice from behind them. 

Tyrion Lannister, Master of Coin - and her and Jon’s favorite member of the Small Council - had sauntered up to them on his horse. Behind him came Ser Oswell of the Kingsguard. They couldn’t escape the trappings of traveling as members of the royal family, but had managed to have a lighter footprint of guards for ease of travel. They still had to have some protection of course - coming in the form of Ser Oswell Whent and a contingent of some of the best trained royal guards.

Tyrion, on the other hand, was not there for protection, but for...well, it was really because he wanted to join the two Targaryen youths before he likely became saddled with the job of Hand to the King once Jon Arryn retired back to the Vale. 

Rhaenys rolled her eyes as she turned to look at the clever Lannister. “As always, your wit is a true gift, Lord Tyrion.” She turned back to look at Jon before, then the castle, and back at Jon. A sly grin crossed her lips. “I’ll see you all of you there.” She gave the horse a quick kick and was racing down the hill. 

Ghost was quicker than Jon, already with the Princess. “Dammit, Rhae!” Jon shouted as he took off on his own horse, Ser Oswell and the guards rushing to catch up as she raced across the small open stretch that ended at the castle. 

Riding across the expanse, Rhaenys relished the feel of the wind against her skin, a cold bite that felt like it left searing burns on her cheeks. Still, she felt free and unbound in that moment. She slowed her horse down just before the gates of Winterfell to wait for Jon, Tyrion and the guards. When her little brother pulled up alongside her, he glared at her, but a smile was tugging at his lips. “You get far too much pleasure from torturing all of us.” 

She shrugged. “You say ‘too much,’ I say the right amount. Ghost had no problem keeping up, isn’t that right, boy?” Ghost looked at her in a way that Jon could only describe as absurdly fond. 

“Well you look a mess now, that ride tore your hair out of your braid,” he told her with a goodhearted laugh. 

She brought her hand to head and feeling her hair. He was right - but there wasn’t much to be done about it now.

“Don’t listen to him. As always, you look like a vision, Princess. Just perhaps a more wild vision at the moment,” Tyrion said as he rode up to them. The Lannister lord always had a soft spot for Rhaenys. She liked to read as much as he did, and she was far too easy on the eyes. She was bronze and dark of hair like her mother, and her face was hauntingly beautiful, especially her deep indigo eyes. Even if her hair was a mess at the moment, he knew no one would really pay much mind to that. 

As the guards arrived, they moved to enter the castle. The gates had already opened before they could ask to enter, the castle guards likely having seen their flags in the distance. 

Jon rode in first and his horse had barely come to a halt when he jumped off to run towards the group waiting for them. But before he could make it them, a blur of grey cloth and dark brown hair came at him, jumping up to hug him. 

“Oof! I’m glad to see you too, Arya!” Jon said as he caught his tiny cousin in his arms, embraced her tightly as he whirled them around the courtyard. Ghost had already run to his sisters and brothers, who were just as eager to see him, judging by the amount of barking and yips in the courtyard. A larger, calmer wolf sat next to a man who reminded Rhaenys of Jon. 

“What took you so long? You should have visited earlier! Where are the dragons?” Arya said before jumping down to the ground. 

He laughed at her as he moved to greet the rest of his family. Eddard Stark clasped an arm around Jon’s, pulling him into a fierce hug. “You were shorter than me last time I saw you, nephew,” he said warmly. 

“It’s good to see you, Uncle,” Jon beamed as he embraced him. 

Easing back, Lord Stark looked over to the group of direwolves playing with each other. “Looks like Ghost is taking after you, he’s as big as Grey Wind now.” 

Jon nodded and laughed as he moved to greet Lady Stark, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “It’s good to see you, Aunt. I hope we won’t be too much trouble for you.” 

She placed a tender hand on his cheek. “Never, you are welcome here whenever you want, you know that.” She moved her head to the side, looking past his shoulder and then back to him, her eyes expectant. 

“Oh, right, yes,” he coughed. “Lord Stark, Lady Stark, may I present my sister, Princess Rhaenys of House Targaryen and Lord Tyrion Lannister, Warden of the West and Master of Coin.” 

Rhaenys had been taking in Jon’s initial meeting with his family. It struck her that Jon looked more like Lord Stark than he did their own father - or most of the children before them for that matter. She snapped out of her thoughts when she heard Jon whisper her name loudly and jumped off her horse, smoothing down her dress. “And Martell, little brother - and House Martell,” she told him, with a look of mock admonishment, crossing the distance between them. Jon gave her an apologetic grin. 

She made her way to their hosts to greet them. “Lord Stark, Lady Stark, it is an honor to meet you. I can’t thank you enough for allowing me to join Jon here. I hope it is not an imposition.” She was nervous. Even though it had been years since the Rebellion, she knew there were still lingering tensions with their father. It made her hope they didn’t think ill of her by association. _ Though they weren’t terribly happy when they found out their she-wolf went with Rhaegar willingly, I suppose, but they love Jon. _She may not have warm thoughts for Lyanna Stark either, but she loved Jon and if he loved his wolf pack, she would too. 

“Princess, the honor is ours,” Lord Stark said as he bowed, Lady Stark curtsying next to him. 

“Oh please, do not trouble yourself with that! It is not necessary, I promise you,” she rushed to say.

Jon shook his head, laughing. “My sister is not fond of formalities and forgets that they are often expected. Don’t mind her.” Rhaenys gave Jon a frown and a small shove followed by him softly shoving her back with a grin, and their hosts chuckled quietly, taking in the royal siblings. 

Tyrion began to make his greetings to Lord Stark, as Jon took Rhaenys down the line. “Come, meet the others,” Jon said as he pulled her slightly. “This is my cousin, Robb, heir to Winterfell.” 

“Princess, welcome to the North. I hope your journey here was not too taxing,” Robb said, taking her hand to lay a kiss upon it, his eyes never leaving hers. Robb Stark was handsome - he seemed all Tully with auburn curls and piercing blue eyes. _ Ladies at court would swoon _, she thought. 

“It was perfectly fine, my lord - except for Jon’s bout of sea sickness on the boat ride to White Harbor,” she said with a smirk. 

Jon huffed next to her, rolling his eyes. “She jests,” he commented with mild exasperation. “Come on - many more to come. May I introduce Sansa Stark and Arya Stark - who made her own introduction of sorts before.” 

The two girls couldn’t have been more different. One was a replica of their mother and curtsied like a perfect southern lady. The other was the one who jumped on Jon before. She looked like a tiny version of him and was clearly bored with introductions. 

“And finally Bran and Rickon Stark.” So many Starks, it was a wonder Lady Stark slept at all with so many children to take care of. 

“Is it true that women fight in Dorne?” a voice asked. It was the miniature female version of Jon. 

“It is, my lady. All of my cousins have been trained to fight, and they’re some of the best - and deadliest - I’ve encountered,” Rhaenys said proudly. She heard Ser Oswell let out a noise behind her. She gave him a stern look as she turned to face Arya.

“I’m no lady,” she said sternly, with her chin held high. “And do you know how to fight too?” 

“Arya!” Lady Stark called out. 

Rhaenys laughed heartily. “I do, indeed. My Uncle Oberyn and one of the Kingsguard have trained me for many years now.” 

The girl’s eyes went wide with excitement. “See, mother! Even the _ Princess _ knows how to fight! Now you must let me train!” she exclaimed and her mother groaned. Rhaenys looked to Jon with a look of uncertainty and slight amusement. 

“Let’s get you settled in, you must be tired from the journey,” Lord Stark said, clearly eager not to let this argument play out further with his daughter and wife. Arya huffed before taking Jon in one hand and Rhaenys in the other, pulling them to the castle. 

Rhaenys looked over at Jon, as they walked into the castle. “I like it here already,” she whispered.

*********************

_ Kingsroad, Castle Black to Wintefell _

On the rare occasions he was given leave to ride to Winterfell, Benjen always rode with a sense of desperation split in two - one part longing for the family that awaited him there, his brother and his beautiful children; and the other part was a desperation to flee black to the confines of the Watch and the sprawl of the Haunted Forest, where the ghosts of the past did not haunt him and he could atone for everything that had gone wrong. 

He knew this trip would be somewhat different than most. While he had met his royal nephew a few times before during the young boy’s visits to the North, he would get to show him the Wall now. He was thrilled at the chance of showing Lyanna’s only child the haunting landscape that he spent so many of his days wandering through now. 

He had many things to speak with Ned about as well regarding the wildlings. There was also the simpler news of his new direwolf companion. He’d welcomed the wolf to his otherwise often lonely rangings, but often wondered why and how she found him not so long after the pups had come to Winterfell. The world was becoming stranger by the day it seemed. 

He hoped that his trip would not fill him with the regret that sometimes felt like it could begin to fester when he went back to Winterfell - the hint of regret, questioning if he should have waited to join the Watch; waited to see if he might find love and have a family of his own; if there was another way to find peace. 

He could only hope that this trip would heal and not hurt. 


	4. Chapter 4

_ King’s Landing _

Rhaegar gazed out the window, looking at the currently peaceful waters of the Blackwater Rush. He’d risen before the sun which was just about to creep out from under the ocean. He paced slowly, hands clasped behind his back.

Outside, the sigil of their house flew across the water. It had been just over a year since dragons had returned to them and he still did not know how it happened. This particular one flying over the water was Aegon’s dragon, Abrax. Daenerys’s dragon, Gelezon, was always with her at Dragonstone, and Jon and Rhaenys had left theirs - Snowfyre and Sunwater - on the island as well before they went North. Viserys’s dragon, Vezon, was there as well as Dorne was still not prepared just yet to welcome an actual dragon, even if their Princess was married to one. 

There were five dragons - not just three - and not for the first time, he wondered where he had stumbled. 

The dragons had all spent the first year of their life on the island for their own safety, until they were bigger. It was only in the past few months that they had come to the capital, and Rhaegar still wasn’t sure they should stay here. 

There was still no explanation for how they hatched. Three years ago, Rhaenys had insisted they visit Dragonstone. When they finally did go, she ran off the boat despite their cries and went straight into the caves that led into the volcano. It was just before she hit her growth spurt, so she was still small and lanky as she ran through the darkness. 

He ran faster than he ever had to keep up with her, weaving and ducking through the tunnel followed by the Kingsguard. She didn’t even take a torch and somehow she knew where to go. He himself had run into the cave walls so many times, he probably still has bruises all these years later. 

And then slowly light began to come into the tunnel as they went deeper and it became hotter, stuffier. He didn’t think they were at the center as they had not climbed too high, but there were some flames and lava that were bubbling. And nearby, a clutch of dragon eggs. 

She had walked over to them, touched each of them and then quickly unsheathed the Valyrian steel dagger Oberyn had gifted her years ago. She sliced her hand and let the blood fall over them. He’d screamed and ran to her, looking at her hand. Then to his horror, she placed it on the hot stone. When she held it up again to inspect it herself, the cut was healed. 

She turned to him and said, “we’ll return soon.” And then turned to walk out as though it never happened. A little over a year later they returned, and she spilled her blood once more. They left the cave with five dragons perched on the shoulders and arms of his eldest child. 

When he asked her how she knew where they were and why she spilled her blood on them, she replied - begrudgingly - that she’d had a dream about where they were and that she simply felt that there must be blood. As though it was the most sensible thing in the world. All he could muster was that she had been blessed - and hopefully not cursed - with dragon dreams.

The dragons had all grown well and were still growing yet it seemed, but the largest one amongst them was Sunwater. She was a beautiful deep blue with scales that rippled of bronze and copper. Rhaenys had named her in honor of Dorne, saying the bronze and blue were a perfect combination of the Dornish sun and the river Rhoyne.

He felt like that dragon eyed him as warily as his daughter and Dorne did. 

Across the room, he heard a light stirring of sheets. He paused before walking to the bed and sitting down gently. His wife’s eyes were closed, dark waves loose, but he knew she was awake as she moaned slightly. 

“What are you doing up,” Elia asked, her voice still filled with sleep. “The sun is only just rising.” 

“I can see that,” he said quietly and smiled at her. 

“When did you come in here?” she asked, her eyes still closed. 

“Not too long ago. Your chambers have a better view of the Bay. I did not mean to wake you,” he replied, stroking the hair from her face, lightly caressing her tan cheek. “Sleep was alluding me.” His voice was already tinged with melancholy. _ It is too early for that _, Elia thought. 

She opened her eyes, dark amber globes blinked at him. He moved to climb onto the bed, lying down on his side and gently pulling Elia to him so her back was against his chest. 

“Does this mean we can go back to sleep,” she asked with a yawn. 

“You should,” he replied, burying his face into her hair. “I do not think I’ll achieve that.”

She sighed and turned on her other side to face him. “What are you thinking about then,” she inquired. 

“I wonder when we will hear from Jaeherys and Rhaenys next?” he asked. He sounded almost like a child. 

She closed her eyes, smoothing the pillow. “They wrote when they reached White Harbor. I’m sure we will hear from them once they reach Winterfell.” 

“I wonder if they should have taken the dragons,” he pondered. 

“Ha!” She laughed lightly. “Because the sight of Targaryens _ and _ dragons would surely make the North rest easy. Plus I thought we all agreed we want to make sure they have more time to grow before they leave the capital or Dragonstone, for their own safety.”

He sighed wearily. “Well, perhaps I should have gone too.” 

She met his sigh with one of her own. “We both know that would have been a terrible idea once Jon insisted they go to Winterfell,” she noted. She was about to say something else but she caught herself before the words could escape. But he saw the words on her lips anyways. 

He closed his eyes. “And Rhaenys would likely have not gone then. I know that’s what you wanted to say.” 

She didn’t say anything, just stared into his eyes. Brown honey into indigo. “It will be good for her and Jon. He’s wanted her and Aegon to come with him to Winterfell for a long time, at least one was able to go. And she’s always wanted to go to the Wall. Who knows if she’ll get such an adventure again once she’s married?” 

He grimaced. “We’ll have to settle on her match soon, but I fear there are not many options. The Stark heir is one of the few to be honest,” he muttered and was met with a deep breath of exhaustion. “But yes, she’s been most eager to meet Aemon. She trades letters with him more than I do. I think he might know our daughter better than me.” He was looking at her but she could tell he was far away. 

“I miss them,” she whispered. His eyes awakened and truly looked at her then. It was moments like this that it felt like the gap between them - one he knew he was responsible for - was small, that perhaps it was nearly closed; moments where it was just them. 

"I've never been apart from her for such a long time," Elia sighed. He gazed at her before laying a gentle but long kiss on her lips as his hands grazed along the side of her body. 

"I know, I still remember being away from her and Aegon. I - " he caught what he said feeling her body tense and knew immediately he should not have said that. The look on her face and in her eyes at that moment told him she agreed. _ You were away from her because you left them alone _, a voice in his head said. 

"The sun is up, I should get dressed,” Elia said, removing his hands from her and getting up quickly. And just like that, the gap between them became a valley. 

He watched her go before turning to lie on his back and stare at the ceiling. When he turned to look out the window, he no longer saw the dragon flying - just clouds blocking the rising sun. 

* * *

Jon had settled into a pattern almost immediately upon their arrival at Winterfell, sparring with Robb and the Greyjoy ward in the mornings and often in the afternoons as well. Rhaenys was eager to join them, but was waiting to feel more comfortable around this half of Jon’s family. Going on rides with Jon and Robb had helped with that, as did speaking with Lord Stark about their journey to the Wall - even if he seemed nervous about her going there. _ He acts like men of Watch have never seen a woman before _. 

Finally after they broke their fast a few days after arriving, she came to the sparring ground in her breeches. She was armed with a spear Oberyn had gifted her that she treasured. 

“Finally decided to grace us with your presence, sister?” Jon teased. 

“I realized you were getting soft without me challenging you, so I thought it my duty to make sure you don’t forget, little brother.” 

Theon let out an amused snort and Jon gave him a look as if to warn him. “Ah, Lord Greyjoy. Perhaps you would do me the honor? I need a warm-up before a serious session.” 

He glared at her. “Perhaps your grace would like to try archery?” he replied with a smirk. 

She stopped before him. “If you like.” He gazed at her cautiously before gesturing to the target yard. 

She walked over and eyed the bows that were available before settling on one that seemed to have the right weight and pull for her. 

“After you, my lord,” she said with a small bow of her head. He eyed her warily before he lined himself up and shot the arrow with ease. It landed just a few spaces from the center but quite close. 

He turned to her with an arrogant smirk before walking up to her and stopping too close for her own comfort. He gestured widely with one arm. “It’s all yours, Princess.” 

As she walked away, she sighed dramatically. “I shall try my hardest, my lord.” She lined her body up with the target and drew the arrow back, its feathers and her hand that held it just grazing her lips. Her eyes moved to Jon for a moment - he could see the humor in them a mile away - before she turned her gaze back towards the target and let the arrow loose. It hit dead center and in less than a moment, she drew another arrow, sending it flying to split the arrow Theon had shot. 

She dropped the bow to her side before turning to her competitor. “Lucky, I suppose,” she said with a small smile as she walked towards one of the benches to grab a waterskin. Jon and Robb burst out laughing, her brother using one hand to close Theon’s mouth that was gaping open. 

As Jon led Theon away to continue sparring, Robb walked over to her with an amused look on his face. She stared at him, waiting for him to speak. “What?” she asked with a small smile. 

“That was thoroughly entertaining, Princess. Theon could stand to be knocked down a peg or two.” 

“Or twenty,” she replied dryly. 

He laughed heartily before eyeing her again. “So the training you mentioned when you arrived - seems like you’ve taken it quite seriously.” 

She nodded. “Women should know how to defend themselves just as much as men, if not more. And my Uncle made sure I could do that.” 

“This Uncle is…” he asked hesitantly and she smirked. “You’ve probably heard of him as the Red Viper.” 

He gulped. “Yes, he has quite the reputation.” 

Rhaenys loved how nervous her uncle made other people. It was probably wrong to take such pleasure from it, but he was her protector, fierce and loyal. And if he inspired fear and it kept their family safe then so be it. Though, even she had to admit, he could sometimes be a bit rash. 

“He does have a reputation, tis true,” she told the Stark heir. “But he is kind and brave and above all - lives to protect those he loves. He channels that into how he fights, and he taught me to do the same.”

He regarded her with curiosity. “I saw precision, not passion, in your gaze, if I may note, Princess.” 

Her lips quirked as she fought a smile unsuccessfully. “You’re very observant, my lord. Uncle Oberyn isn’t the only one I’ve learned from. It’s best to diversify your learning and views - makes you stronger, don’t you think? If we only know one way, we can fall by so many others.” 

A warm half smile took over his face then. “Well, I suppose I better start expanding my lessons now. Care to show me how to use that spear?” She laughed and jumped up, pulling him up with her as they walked back to the main area of the yard. 

After that, Rhaenys was a regular in their sparring sessions and seemed to have gained the respect of Robb, Theon and even their Master-at-Arms. Rodrick Cassel had even asked her about some of the moves she used when fighting with a spear. 

Just two days later, Rhaenys found herself wandering out of the keep into the courtyard for some fresh air after dinner. It would be hard to go back to the cloistered confines of King’s Landing after spending time here. 

“Can you teach me how to fight with a spear?” a voice asked her seemingly out of nowhere, causing her to jump. 

“Arya!” she breathed out, calming herself as she saw the small Stark. “I didn’t even hear you approach, you scared me,” she said laughing. 

The little wolf smirked. “I know, I’m good at being quiet.” She looked at Rhaenys impatiently then. “So can you?”

The Princess looked back at her, studying the tiny wolf. “Well, I’ve never taught anyone before, but I could try? I suppose I can just try my best to replicate my Uncle’s lessons. But wouldn’t you like to learn how to wield a sword?” 

She shrugged. “I can. But seems better to know more than one weapon. And you’re here now, you seem good with a spear so makes the most sense to learn with you.” 

_Smart, this one_. “We can begin tomorrow then,” Rhaeny replied bemused. She started thinking of her Uncle then and memories of him teaching her washed over her, flooding her with nostalgia and longing for her family. “I wish my Uncle Oberyn could teach you. I think you might like it in Dorne.” 

“I’d like to visit there someday,” she said with a hazy look on her face. “The stories about Princess Nymeria are some of my favorite.” Her direwolf came up to her then, nudging her hand with a whine. Arya leaned over to hug the beautiful beast that was nearly as tall as her. “That’s how I named her.” 

Rhaenys sat down on a patch of grass in the courtyard and patted next to her to ask Arya to join her. She peered up at the sky, squinting her eyes and looking around before she found what she was looking for. “See that bright star?” she asked, pointing up. “The big white one?” 

“Yes, what about it?” 

“Well, my cousin Arianne says that this star is Nymeria. And that patch of white is all of her ten thousand ships.” Arya gazed up in wonder. “So until you can go to Dorne, when you look at the star, pretend you are there. When I leave here, everytime I see that star, I’ll think of you and count the days until I can show you Dorne.” 

Arya gave her a big smile before turning her head to the side to study Rhaenys. “You and Jon are close, aren’t you?” 

“We are,” Rhaenys replied fondly. 

“You don’t mind that his mom is different than yours?” 

She shook her head. “Nope. He’s my brother, that’s all that matters. Actually, when I was young, I liked the fact that there was another Targaryen who had dark hair like me. We are, you might say, the odd ones,” Rhaenys said in a mischievous whisper. 

Arya giggled and as her laughter faded, she looked at Rhaenys as though she was inspecting her carefully. “People say I look like her, Jon’s mom, my aunt. That doesn’t bother you?” 

Rhaenys looked at her in surprise. “No! Gods, why would you think that?” 

The little wolf shrugged. “Dunno. I hear people talk about her sometimes. They don’t like that she went off with your father. To be honest, I don’t like it - sounds stupid. But then I suppose Jon wouldn’t be there if they hadn’t?” 

Rhaenys laughed. She felt like the little girl had gone through some of the same questions she had. “That’s about the size of it, I think.” She didn’t need to get into her own feelings about her father with her. “All I know is that you can’t help who you are born to and you can’t help what or who you look like. And I’m glad that Jon is here and that’s enough for me.” A smile spread across Arya’s face before looking back up at the stars with Rhaenys. 

“What is so fascinating about the sky, ladies?” a voice called out from behind them. 

Robb and Jon walked over to them. 

Arya jumped up in excitement. “Rhaenys is going to take me to Dorne!” 

Jon looked at his sister, eyebrows raised. Rhaenys shrugged, smiling at her brother. “Not right now but someday! She’ll like it.” 

Robb laughed and sat down next to her. “And what has the sky revealed to you tonight, Princess?” Jon had taken a seat by Arya, and Rhaenys could hear her launching into a story about Princess Nymeria and her conquest of Dorne. 

Rhaenys looked at Arya fondly. “That is a secret between your sister and I, my lord.” 

“She doesn’t normally warm up to people this fast,” Robb said, looking at his sister as well with a smile. “It’s nice to see her like this.” 

“She reminds me of my cousins, I hope they can meet each other someday,” she said wistfully, letting more memories come back of Sunspear, playing in the Water Gardens with her fierce Dornish relatives. 

“I don’t think we can ever allow that, Your Grace.” Her head jolted back slightly, shocked he could tell. “What I mean is that I fear if she goes to Dorne, she may never want to leave. And I don’t think our parents would like that, especially our father,” he explained laughing. 

She chuckled a bit. “Yes, you may be right. Though she seems quite suited for Dorne. Her wolf may even like it - traveling to her namesake’s kingdom - though she may need to shave her fur.” He gave her a crooked grin. “I want to thank you, you and your family have been so welcoming to me. I must confess, I was hesitant to come here when Jon asked.” 

“Why?” Robb asked genuinely. 

She began to speak but stopped, slightly confused. _ Was it not obvious? _ “Well, I suppose I assumed the events of the war, the rebellion...that perhaps…” 

He shook his head, laughing lightly as his auburn curls danced around him. “I think I know what you are trying to say. Perhaps others might not be so welcoming, that is true. I won’t deny tensions still exist. But you are not responsible for what happened, same as Jon. I would only have cause to dislike you if you mistreated my cousin who is like a brother to me. You do not, quite the opposite in fact, so how should I treat you, your grace?” He asked the question lightly and with a tender smile, but the flirtation within it still caused a slight flush to take over her cheeks.

It was then that Lady Catelyn called out to Arya to go to bed, but the girl refused. Rhaenys felt slightly relieved for the interruption. Robb let out a deep sigh before rising to convince his sister that she should grant their mother this favor. He finally won by saying he’d go with her and tell her one of Old Nan’s stories. They had begun to walk back inside before Arya stopped. 

“Oh!” she exclaimed, turning to run back to where Jon and Rhaenys were. She gave them both a hug goodnight and as she let herself go from embracing Rhaenys, she whispered in her ear, reminding the princess of her promise for lessons. Then she ran back to Robb who gave Rhaenys a smile before they went inside.

Once they had left, Jon moved over to sit next to his sister. “I think Robb likes you,” he said smiling. 

Her eyes glanced sideways to him but she didn’t reply, turning her eyes to look back up at the sky. She didn’t take the bait, so he decided not to tease her more. “Are you liking it here?” 

At that she turned to him with a wide smile. “I love it. I can’t believe you didn’t bring me here sooner come,” she replied before her thoughts took her elsewhere. “Do you think mother would like it?” 

Even if Queen Elia wasn’t Jon’s mother by birth, she was his mother in every other way. Since Lyanna had died, Elia had filled that role more than enough, giving him just as much affection as she gave Aegon and Rhaenys. When he was old enough to realize that she wasn’t his birth mother, the way she cared for him made him love her even more. 

Jon had a fond look on his face. “I’d like to think so. I think the cold might be a bit too harsh for her, but I think she would love the hot springs,” he said hopefully. 

She hummed in agreement. All of a sudden Jon wrapped her in a hug. 

“Oof,” she said, startled. “What’s this for?” 

He held onto her. “I’m just so glad you’re here. For so long, it felt like I was two people - Targaryen or Stark. Sometimes I felt like by loving my Stark family so much, I was betraying you, Egg and mother Elia.” His voice had started to shake. 

She breathed out a sigh and held him even tighter. “Jon, we never wanted you to feel torn like that. I’m sorry if my...my division with father made you feel like this, I never meant for that.” She had always wanted to protect her little brother, not cause him to feel worse. 

“I know, and I understand why you feel the way you do towards him. I’m just glad that you love it here as much as I do.” He pulled back to look at her. “Though, I think Arya may be starting to like you more than she likes me. That was not part of my plan.” 

“How could you doubt that would happen?” she replied laughing before pulling him back to her to embrace him again. “I’m going to head back in. Are you coming?” 

“No, I’ll stay out a bit longer. I want to take in as much of this before we have to return to King’s Landing,” he replied wistfully. 

“Goodnight, brother,” she said, her arms squeezing around him once more before letting him go. “And be more prepared tomorrow when I test you with the spear. You were too slow today,” she said with a smirk before departing for the night. 

She was walking up the stairs by the courtyard when she heard Jon’s voice greeting someone below, his excitement radiating through the air. When she looked down from the ledge, she saw a large wolf trotting next to a tall, dark figure that was embracing Jon. As they stepped away from each other, she took in the new arrival clad all in black. As the light of the torches on the walls danced around him, she could see that he wore his hair like Lord Stark, half of it pulled away as the rest of his dark hair framed a long, pale face. 

All of a sudden, he looked up and their eyes met. She felt a sensation of cold and heat clashing, traveling down her spine all at once and engulfing her in a feeling she hadn’t known before. She held his gaze for a few moments before moving away from the balcony. She shook her head, trying to cast away whatever had come over her, before she retreated to her chambers. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up - our rarepair finally meets!


	5. Chapter 5

Jon and Robb were midway through breaking their fast, stuffing warm bread, eggs and bacon into their mouths when their uncle strode into the hall. 

“Uncle Benjen!” Robb shouted excitedly, shooting up from his seat to great their uncle. “Jon said you arrived last night, I’m jealous I didn’t get to greet you!” He hugged his uncle tightly as a huge grin took over his face. “Where is your direwolf? Jon said she came with you too.”

“She’s roaming around the grounds no doubt,” Benjen said as he embraced Robb. He took a step back to look at how another one of his little nephews was now nearly a man grown. “Gods, you’ve shot up like a weed, Robb,” he said with a smile. 

“Did you rest well last night, Uncle?” Jon asked as they all sat down. 

“Aye, after the journey here, a featherbed in the warm walls of home always feels like a dream.” A servant had already brought out a plate of food for him and he dove in, making up for the small meals that came with the journey there. “I’m excited to show you the Wall, Jon. Once I gather supplies in Winter town and we come back from the hunt, I’ll be ready whenever you are,” Benjen said. “Though I won’t mind if you want to stay here a bit longer,” he added with a laugh. 

“We can’t wait, Uncle Benjen. Rhaenys scarcely talked about anything else on the journey here,” Jon said.

The ranger blinked his eyes, slowing his chewing down as he tried to deduce whether or not his nephew was joking with him. “The Princess? You want to bring the Princess to the Wall, Jon? Is that a jape?” 

“You didn’t know?” Jon asked, slightly alarmed. He glanced at Robb and then back to Benjen. “I thought Uncle Ned or perhaps Maester Aemon would have told you?”

Their uncle shook his head. “A southern lady and a princess - is your maester down south giving you milk of the poppy every day?”

Jon grimaced slightly. “Even if I believed she wasn’t up to it, I wouldn’t be able to stop her. It was her idea to go to the Wall to begin with, and she’s not really the kind of person you say no to.” He said the last part more as a grumble than a plea. 

“She’s no soft southerner, Uncle,” Robb chimed in. 

Benjen gave Jon a long and hard questioning look. “And the King has given his approval? I’m not going to lose my head for taking his daughter there?” It sounded like madness. Surely both the King and Queen had said no. 

“I promise, father knows and has approved of her traveling with us. He cares about the Watch and wants to make sure it is taken seriously.” 

Benjen knew this to be true. Everyone at the Wall was well aware of how attentive the King was to them, always making sure the castles that were well-maintained - not to mention the glass garden he’d had built at Castle Black. That still didn’t make this venture seem more reasonable. All the resources from the Crown didn’t change the fact that the Watch had fewer men than they needed - and most of the ones they did have were less than desirable. 

“Utter foolishness. Alright, but the trip there is not easy. With the guards and supplies we’re hauling, it will take near three weeks to get there. Make sure to tell her that. And she should know not to expect southron luxury up at the Wall either.” 

“You can tell her yourself if you like, she’s just over there,” Jon said, tossing a piece of charred bacon into his mouth as he nodded towards the entrance at the other side of the room. 

Benjen turned around on the bench to look to where Jon had pointed to, towards the hall entrance. He was fairly sure it was the same person he glimpsed last night, though whatever Benjen might have been expected to see in the form of the Princess, she was not it. The last thing he would have imagined was a young woman in breeches, boots and a tunic. A braid of thick and dark long hair sailed in the air as she flew over to Jon. 

Jon got up from the bench, pulling Rhaenys to him and embracing her with one arm. Benjen rose as well to greet her. “Uncle, this is my sister, Princess Rhaenys. Sister, this is my Uncle Benjen, First Ranger of the Night’s Watch,” Jon said proudly. 

She seemed lost in thought for a moment before collecting herself. “It’s an honor to meet you, my lord. Jon has told me much of you,” Rhaenys said with a warm smile and extended her hand out. She seemed to be expecting a firm handshake and not a lady’s greeting of a kiss upon the hand, Benjen noted as he looked down at her hand and then up to her face. His breath hitched as he saw her up close. His eyes took in a face that was bronzed and warm, yet willowy and haunting at the same time. _ She’s beautiful, _he couldn't help thinking. 

Benjen blinked himself out of those thoughts as he took her hand and gave it a quick but gentle shake. “The honor is mine, Princess. And Benjen is fine.” 

“Alright then. But if I am to call you Benjen, then you must call me Rhaenys. It’s only fair,” she replied, her voice soft. 

“So, I hear you will be coming with us to the Wall,” he said as they all sat down again, Rhaenys nudging Jon over so she sat across the table from Benjen. “I was just telling Jon that you all should be prepared for a tough, long journey North. And that Castle Black is just as harsh. You’ll find no luxury there.” He wasn’t cold in his remarks, but neither was he warm. 

Rhaenys’s eyes widened slightly, she could tell he wasn’t thrilled about her joining them. “I - I promise you I won’t be a bother. Maester Aemon and I have written to each other since I could hold a quill to paper, and there is much I want to know about the lands beyond the Wall.” His face seemed to soften briefly upon the mention of the maester, but he still didn’t look convinced. He gave her a tight nod as he went back to eating. Rhaenys thanked a servant as they brought her a plate of bread with tea. 

“Uncle,” Jon chimed in, giving his sister a quick look. “Rhaenys is quite a good fighter. Perhaps you could spar with us later? I know she and I both would appreciate learning from you. Uncle Ned said that you’re a better swordsman than him.” 

Benjen laughed heartily at that. “I know for a fact that Ned did not say that. You don’t need to flatter me to get me to train with you. After I’ve spent some time with Ned today, I’ll meet you all out in the training grounds this afternoon. Sound good?” Jon gave him a bright smile.

“Oh! That reminds me, I have to go,” Rhaenys said taking a last bite of her bread and sip of tea. “I promised Arya I’d give her some lessons with the spear.” 

Benjen’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re going to give Arya lessons with weapons? Does my good-sister know?” 

Rhaenys paled slightly and then looked to Jon and then Robb. “I’m so sorry, I should have thought to ask your mother. Should I tell Arya we must wait?” 

Robb laughed before standing up from the bench. “Arya’s wrath if you cancel her lesson will be worse than my mother’s if she finds out, I promise.” He offered his arm to her, and she got up to leave with him. 

“If you say so,” she said though was still slightly concerned she could upset Lady Stark. She turned to look at Benjen. “It was a pleasure to meet you, my lo- Benjen.” 

Benjen got up and gave her a small nod. “You as well, your grace.” She rolled her eyes at the formality, giving him a smile, before ruffling Jon’s hair as she and Robb walked out. 

Jon looked at his uncle with pleading eyes. “See? She’ll be fine, I promise! You don’t have to worry.” 

Benjen finished the food on his plate before taking a sip of tea to wash it down. “You’re not really leaving me a choice, are you?” he said shaking his head with a laugh. 

* * *

Rhaenys and Arya had finished their first lesson, and the little Stark warrior was a natural, Rhaenys realized. They had practiced near the broken tower, hidden away from others. Rhaenys said it would be better for them to train there, until she gathered the courage to speak to Lady Stark - _if she gathered the courage that is_. Walking to the main yard, they drank greedily from waterskins, both thirsty from the training session as they climbed up to the balcony overlooking the courtyard where they took a seat to rest. Down below, Jon and Robb had begun sparring with each other as Ser Rodrik was going over something with Theon. 

“Shall we take bets on who will win this session, my lady?” Rhaenys asked Arya. 

Arya shot her a stern look but slowly smiled, knowing that Rhaenys was teasing her. She looked down at Jon and Robb and shrugged. “What’s the point? I think we’ll both bet on Jon.” 

“You would be right on that account, I think,” a voice said approaching. It was Tyrion. 

“Come to watch the show too, Tyrion?” Rhaenys asked playfully. 

“Yes, I’ve been quite bored with all of you spending the day fighting each other out here though. If it continues like this, I might end up spending even more time in Winter town. Not that I’d mind that, come to think of it,” he said more to himself than them. 

They watched as the two boys began their session. They stopped a few minutes later before there was a victor though, when Benjen called out to them. 

“Can I join you then or is this session only for young pups?” Benjen asked his nephews. The Stark ranger was much taller than Jon and Robb and though he was lean, the tunic he wore made obvious the muscles that lay underneath. He glanced up and saw her, Tyrion and Arya who had jumped up to cheer for him already. He gave his niece a wolfish smile and little bow. 

As they began to spar, she noticed Jon’s uncle fought similar to others in some ways - but his moves were also touched by something else - something harsher, faster. It was thrilling to watch, and it kept Rhaenys’s eyes fixed on Benjen. When she met him in the morning, she was slightly taken aback. She had seen him last night when he arrived, though it was from afar, but could tell he was a somewhat handsome man. But up close she found him striking. His face was rugged with sharp cheekbones and piercing blue-grey eyes, framed by raven dark hair that clashed with his pale skin. 

The sparring session below stopped for a moment so they could rest and drink water, all of them covered in sweat and breathing hard. Rhaenys continued to watch the older Stark without realizing it. He glanced up to the balcony, his eyes landing on her. A warm tingling passed through her as she looked directly back at him, before he moved to return to sparring with the boys. She readjusted her position, trying to make the sensation go away but it didn’t seem to work. 

“Why are you looking at Uncle Benjen like that?” Arya asked with an arched eyebrow. 

Rhaenys startled. “I - I was just wondering where he learned how to fight like that, that’s all,” she sputtered. 

“Well I want to watch closer - let’s go!” she said, grabbing Rhaenys by the hand to pull her before dropping it in impatience to run down the stairs. 

She got up to join Arya, nodding her head for Tyrion to join. As they walked towards the stairs, she could feel eyes on her and her eyes glanced sideways and down towards Tyrion before looking away. “I know that look, Princess,” he said with a smirk. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied lightly. 

“Yes, you do,” he continued as they descended the steps. “Most interesting. I’ve never seen you look at anyone like that - man or woman,” he said, seemingly racking his brain to check if he was right about that.

She straightened her shoulders, feeling uncomfortable with the sudden inquisition. “You don’t spend every moment with me, Tyrion. You don’t know how I look or when I look at other people all the time,” she told him, not entirely sure if that even made sense. _ Why am I getting so worked up about this? _

“Well, I feel the need to go look at someone like that - off to winter town I go. I shall see you at dinner,” he told her with a smile, before leaving. 

She huffed as she walked over to where Arya was to join her, trying to understand what he was talking about. When Benjen saw Arya, he patted both of his nephews on the back before walking over to where she and Rhaenys were and scooped up his niece, spinning her around. Arya laughed, holding onto her uncle tightly before pulling back with a big smile and shaking her head. “You’re so sweaty!! And it’s on me now, too!” 

“I apologize, my lady, I was just overcome with the need to hug my dear niece,” he said before shaking his head so his long hair let loose a bit more sweat. 

“Uncle Benjen!” Arya shouted with laughter. She squirmed out of his arms and once she was on the ground, she gave him a quick look before grabbing his sparring sword. She took off running towards Jon and Robb, stumbling slightly from the weight of the sword. 

He watched his niece run off before turning back to Rhaenys who had watched the whole scene with utter amusement and delight. They reminded her of how she was with her Uncle Oberyn. 

“Here,” she said with a laugh as she handed him a waterskin. “Looks like you need that.” 

“Thank you, Princess,” he said, taking a deep swig of water. His tunic was clinging to his chest now, covered in sweat. She wondered if he would be cold from the sweat or still feel overheated from sparring and the mild chill would not bother him. 

He closed the waterskin and moved to lean against the wooden beam by her. “So, how did the lesson go? Did you teach our little wolf how to wield a spear?” he asked looking over at Rhaenys. 

She let out a chuckle. “The lesson went well, I think. I’ve never instructed anyone before, but she seems to have a knack for it. It will be easier when she has grown a bit more though, I think.” 

“She is a tiny thing, that one, but fierce,” he remarked fondly. “Who taught you?” 

Looking at him thoughtfully, she replied. “My uncle,” she said with a warm smile which he returned with one of his own. “I may not be as good as him but,” she said, looking at her spear and flipping in her hand few times, “I know what I’m doing.” 

“Perhaps you can show me before you leave,” he remarked, laughter playing in his eyes. The color of them reminded her of the sky over the Blackwater Rush after a summer rain storm. 

She gazed at him before replying. “Perhaps I will.” 

There was a pause of silence as they looked at each other, and Rhaenys felt something akin to her stomach flipping inside of her. A moment later a voice called out for Benjen. He let out a good-hearted groan. “Oh, young ones, will you not let your uncle rest some?” 

He gave her a small smile as he got up. “Your grace,” he said with a nod before walking back to the eager group of Jon, Robb and Arya. 

Rhaenys decided it was time for her to bathe then, still sticky with her own sweat from her lesson with Arya. As she walked back towards the keep though, she couldn’t help but turn around, her eyes instinctively falling back on a man with blue-grey eyes. 

* * *

Even though his brother had been Lord of Winterfell for more than fifteen years now, sitting in the solar, sometimes it still seemed to Benjen that it was their father’s solar, not Ned’s, that they were sitting in. He could picture their father sitting in the chair in front of him, watching the fire, drinking ale, and telling them stories late into the night, especially during winter. 

With Ned sitting before him now as they each held a mug of ale, it was hard not to think of Rickard Stark. They’d learned the lessons of their father’s southern ambitions - not to mention their brother’s and sister’s wolfsblood - at a steep cost. It made Ned feel more precious to Benjen and he to Ned. 

“I’m glad you’re here, Ben. I hope you can stay a bit longer than you usually do?” Ned asked, taking a sip from his mug. 

“Aye, I think so. It’ll be nice to spend some time with the children as well. Jon got me out to sparring with them already,” he said with a chuckle. He then recalled the rest of Jon’s revelations at breakfast. 

“Ned, he says we’re to take the Princess to the Wall. Surely you see the folly in this? Some northern adventure for a princess? And we’ll have to watch her the whole time to make sure she’s safe, you know the kind of men we have up there.” 

Ned leaned his chair, exhaling a tired sigh. “It’s not my decision. The King sent a letter before they came explaining that he wanted them there to check on the state of the Watch and to take stock of the situation north of the Wall.” 

“Is the Lannister coming too then?”

Ned grimaced. “Aye, I think so,” he said taking another long sip of ale. “You know, it was her idea to go to the Wall.”

Benjen nodded. “So I’ve been told,” he replied somberly. 

“I’ve spent time with her these past few days, Ben,” Ned continued. “She’s quite smart and has been holding her own with the boys sparring. But I’ll be coming too, so I’ll keep watch. You don’t have to worry, Ben.” 

His little brother nodded, though it still seemed like a headache. “Well, if she doesn’t bother us for amenities befitting her status and doesn’t hinder us on the road, we should be fine. But speaking of the Wall, there are things we need to discuss, that you need to know. It’s the wildlings.” 

His brother let out a weary breath. “Aye, Jon Umber has been sending ravens about more raids on his lands.” Ned furrowed his brow, placing his head on his folded hands. “What has happened that so many are fleeing now? Greatjon hasn’t bothered to ask them, he just rants and raves.” 

“That’s what is troubling, brother,” Benjen told him. “Have you heard about the King-beyond-the-Wall?” 

Ned nodded slowly. “A bit, just rumors. Is it true then, have the wildlings crowned a King?” 

Benjen laughed lightly. “I don’t know that they crowned him, but from what I’ve gathered, the different clans seem to be gathering around him at least. Around...Mance Rayder.” 

Ned blinked, trying to recall why that name was familiar before it came to him. “Mance Rayder...was he not a Brother before?” 

Benjen nodded solemnly. “Aye, but he deserted a long time ago to live with the Wildlings. Now he leads them - or many of them, at least.” He took a long sip of ale, before bringing the mug down to his lap and looking at his older brother. “Ned, the ranger you executed - did he tell you anything before...before?” 

Ned stared at his brother for a few moments before speaking. “He was mad, Ben, he knew not what he was saying. He spoke of white walkers, over and over.”

Benjen looked at him steadily, his fingers tapping on his mug. “He was a true ranger. Wildlings would not send him into desertion.” 

“What are you saying, Ben?” Ned asked, placing his own mug down, concern and confusion overwhelming is eyes. “You believe him?” 

“He’s not the only one. Those wildlings crossing into the Greatjon’s lands - we’ve caught some from their groups before they make it there. And they all speak the same as my former brother.” Benjen looked at his brother with eyes of steel and ice. His fingers that tapped on his mug were now still, as everything else in the room felt like it was. “They all speak of the dead rising.” 

Ned blinked repeatedly, looking at his little brother and trying to make sense of what he was saying. “That’s madness, Ben,” he uttered quietly. 

“Is it? I don’t know what to think, Ned. I’m telling you this so you’re prepared for discussions with the Lord Commander.” He leaned back in his chair with a tired sigh, looking at his older brother. “Dragons down South, direwolves here in Winterfell. Things are shifting, Ned.” 

“I don’t know what to believe, but I know you’re not one to be dramatic, Ben.” Ned stared at the fire before closing his eyes. A few moments later, he opened them, shaking his head to rid it of these tales. “Let’s leave all this talk of darkness for when we’re at the Wall - we’ll have plenty of time there to discuss it then. For now, I want to enjoy you being here with all of us, pup.” Benjen gave him a weary grin before raising his mug as they clinked their cups of ale together. 

It felt comforting having Benjen back at home. With him at the Wall, Ned sometimes felt like he was the only one left in their family, even if he now had the children. He knew his little brother loved visiting them when he could, but he also knew the Benjen sometimes found it hard to come home without feeling lost and depressed in ghosts of the past. He’d seemed to have found his solace - _ or perhaps confined his emotions, Ned often wondered _ \- in his solitude and duties to the Watch. For Ned, it was the children and Cat that always kept him from slipping into the grief of war, loss and betrayal. 

* * *

_ 283, A few weeks after the attack in King’s Landing _

Ned Stark sat quietly in the room. He was still shocked that he was in a room within the wing of the Royal Apartments and not in the Black Cells, but he was not about to complain even if he still felt like a caged wolf. But no one would tell him where Lyanna was - all they would say was that she was safe. He had been told the Queen would be with him soon, but he could not understand why Elia of Dorne could possibly want to see him. Perhaps she wants to speak about Ashara? _ We only danced, _ he said to himself. 

Just then, the door opened and his mouth dropped. 

_ Lyanna! _

He ran over to his little sister and embraced her, clutching her as though she would disappear like their father and brother. 

“Lya! They wouldn’t tell me what happened to you, just that you were safe!” He held her tightly, relief washing over him. “I’m supposed to meet the Queen here any moment, but perhaps she’ll let us spend time together first? I’ve heard Queen Elia is kind.” 

Lyanna flinched before smiling as though they didn’t have a care in the world. “Ned, do you not know? I am to be Queen too now.” She said it as though it was the simplest fact ever spoken. “When the coronation happens, Rhaegar will crown me as his queen. Ah, and Elia too.” 

He blinked his eyes, trying to understand what his little sister had just said. “What - what are you talking about, Lya? Two queens? Why would you be Queen?” His stomach sank. “What did he do to you,” he said with a low growl. 

She laughed. _ How could she laugh now? _ “Ned, he didn’t do anything to me. We were married near Harrenhal, on the Isle of Faces in front of a heart tree. In front of the Old Gods, brother.” 

He let go of her and took a step back. “What are you…” He closed his eyes in pain, trying to make his heart find a steady beat instead of the feeling that it was trying to beat outside his chest. “Are you trying to tell me - telling me - that you went with him willingly? He did not take you?“ 

Her face fell then. “I know it doesn’t sound good, Ned. But we didn’t mean for all of this to happen! We love each other,” she said with determination. 

He reeled back as if she had slapped him. “He’s married! With children! People DIED because they thought you were taken, Lyanna! BRANDON AND FATHER DIED!” 

“I didn’t think something like that would ever happen! I never thought Brandon would do something like he did!” She moved to him quickly, trying to take his hands in hers but he pulled away. “Please, Ned! You must understand, I didn’t want to marry Robert! He would never have been true to me - he didn’t understand me!” 

He let out a short dark laugh as he ran a hand over his weary face. _ Surely I’ve been thrust into a mummer’s act taking place in one of the seven hells. _ “Are you really trying to justify what you did - running off with a _ married _ man - by blaming Robert’s possible future infidelity? Your prince has done the same thing you accused Robert of!” She winced in anger at his words, looking away from her brother. Ned looked around, trying to take in his surroundings and all he could think about was the violence that had followed in the wake of her ‘kidnapping.’ 

”So many Northerners died for you, do you know that? How will I ever look them in the eyes?” He fell to the floor, clutching his head. “So much loss could have been avoided, lives spared. The Queen and her children were almost killed…” he said in a daze before he looked at her. “Why didn’t you just tell us?” 

She looked at the ground. “I thought about it but then I realized father would have stopped me, I know it.” She knelt on the ground by him. “There is some good news, brother. You have a nephew, his name is Jon. Why don’t you come meet him?” she said in an excited whisper. 

He turned his head slowly to look at her, taking a deep breath. “I shall meet him some day and love him, for his is my blood, as are you. I love you, I do, but right now...I ask that you leave me be for I cannot look at you.” The last words escaped in a broken hiss. She watched in silence as he got up and walked out of the room. 

When he returned to Winterfell, Benjen told him he would be leaving within a few months to join the Watch. No matter what Ned said, his pleas for him to stay at least until he had another son, Benjen could not be moved. His eyes were empty and sunken as though he was a man of one hundred instead of a boy of nearly four and ten. 

A year later, Lyanna went into labor with her and Rhaegar’s second child. They had said they both knew it would be their Visenya. The King was in the middle of writing ravens to let the realm know of their impending new daughter when the maester came to give him the news. After birthing the child, Lyanna passed and the babe right after. 

It was a boy. 

  
  
  



	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter and we're back in King's Landing! Thought it was important to come here after the ending in the last chapter

_ King’s Landing _

Elia didn’t really find it entertaining to watch people spar, but she wanted to see how her son was progressing. And with Rhaenys and Jon gone, she felt herself clinging to Aegon more than normal. She wasn’t truly watching. Her eyes were on them, but her mind was elsewhere. She heard Ser Arthur say something about ‘controlling his tells’ but let her mind continue to think about Aegon and her other two children. 

It was always amusing to her how different all the children looked. Aegon was as tall as Rhaegar with flowing silver blonde hair and his eyes were like the beautiful violet of Rhaella and Daenerys. But at least she and Dorne shone through in his beautiful sun-kissed skin and her own features -_ the shape of his eyes and his lips are just like me_, she mused. Jon seemed pure Stark, though his build seemed to mirror Rhaegar. _ And Gods, surely the occasional tendency to brood was from Rhaegar as well. Just like Rhaenys. _

Rhaenys. People seemed to think on first sight that she was a copy of Elia - which delighted her - but if one looked at her daughter for more than a quick moment, they would realize that wasn’t entirely the case. Despite her olive skin and flowing dark hair, many of her features were Rhaegar. _ Though Rhaenys insists her features are Rhaella’s_. It was funny how Rhaenys and Aegon had become flipped images in a way. But it was Rhaegar’s eyes above all that linked their daughter to him, deep and piercing dark indigo. They were the only ones amongst the family that sported the shade, and it had always latched a shred of worry in her. She did not know why either.

She knew to outside observers that Rhaenys appeared happy and confident - as though nothing weighed her down. And she often was that purely. But that was also, Elia knew, somewhat of a facade, a wall her daughter kept up to protect herself. For as strong as Rhaenys was, Elia wished that her daughter could just live a life of peace and happiness. What would she have been like if she had never known such trauma, the horrors of blood and violence or been betrayed by her father? Perhaps she would have been carefree like Daenerys or brash and imposing like some of Oberyn’s daughters. Perhaps she would have been content to be just a Princess and a lady, though that seemed unlikely given the passion from both sides of her family and Elia thanked the gods for it. 

The Queen was broken from her thoughts by someone calling out to her. When she looked over, she saw the Grand Maester Lanwyn walking towards quickly her with a smile. _ Thank the Gods Pycelle is gone. _ He had a scroll in his hand. Her heart skipped a beat, and she jumped up. Aegon seemed to notice her sudden movement and dropped his sword to his side.

“Grand Maester, who is that scroll from?” She wasn’t even sure she got the words out, she was speaking so quickly. 

“A raven from Winterfell, Your Grace,” he said beaming as he handed it to her. 

“Mother?” Aegon said as he walked over to them. “Is everything alright?” 

She broke the seal and unfurled the scroll, devouring the words. She let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. “It’s Rhaenys and Jon. They arrived at Winterfell safely. They are well and say they are having a splendid time.” 

Aegon wrapped his mother in a hug. As tall as his father, he towered over Elia now, but it still felt like he was a child when he hugged her. “I’m so glad to hear that. Gods, I miss them. I still think it is absurd that I could not go with them,” he grumbled. Even at six and ten, when he pouted he looked just as he did when he was five and upset. 

She brought a comforting hand to his cheek. “You will eventually make a progress across the realm when the time comes, my love.” 

Right then they heard the clinking of armor of what was certainly more than one Kingsguard, signalling that the King was approaching. Sure enough he came around the corner not a moment later, trailed by Ser Barristan and Ser Jaime. 

“You two seem excited,” the King said before his eyes landed on the scroll in Elia’s hand. “What news?” 

“It’s from Rhaenys, she and Jon arrived at Winterfell and seem to be settling in well. She mentioned that they’ve spoken to Lord Stark about surveying the state of the Watch and their travel there.” 

He practically hummed in excitement hearing that. While he was glad Jon, and even Rhaenys, were spending time with the Starks, he wanted them to acquire more information about any stirrings beyond the Wall and how the realm should prepare. _ He likes to think it was his idea to go to the Wall, but it was Rhaenys. _

Elia knew it had to do with that damned prophecy but let it go. She looked over her husband’s shoulder to the golden lion guarding him. “Ser Jaime, Rhaenys wanted you to know that she’s been maintaining her training. She said ...” She paused to look back at the scroll and then rolled her eyes letting out a soft chuckle. “Well, suffice it so say she is still practicing there and holding her own.” The letter said a bit more than that, but Elia didn’t think that needed to be said right here. 

“Well, she’s been trained by the best,” he said with a satisfied smirk. Ser Barristan gave him a disapproving look. 

Elia laughed though it slowly disappeared when she saw the slight look of disappointment on Rhaegar’s face. He knew how close Rhaenys was to Ser Jaime - and he knew why. Sometimes she felt pity for him, but then she remembered what it all stemmed from and the pity always vanished quickly. She may have forced herself to move on, but she would never try to control the way her daughter processed what had happened to her. 

******************

_ **283, A few days after the attack in King’s Landing** _

This wasn’t how Rhaegar expected to return home or how he thought his reign would begin. 

When he entered the room, he saw Rhaenys lying still and flat on the bed, as Elia sat at her bedside. One hand was stroking their daughter’s soft dark hair and the other was holding her small hand. 

Rhaegar walked to the other side of the bed and crouched down to look at the tiny girl. “How is she,” he asked quietly. 

Elia didn’t look at him. “When she isn’t screaming from nightmares, she is resting here and won’t let me leave her unless Ser Jaime is with her,” she said flatly. 

He couldn’t meet her eyes. “I heard he saved you from his father’s men.” 

Elia looked at him then, her eyes narrowing as fire took hold. 

“Yes, he saved us. He was here for us. He would have died if he had to - _ for us _.” Feeling her rage begin to swell, she nodded her head to the side so they could move to the sitting room and speak away from Rhaenys. 

“What did you think would happen, Rhaegar? You ran off with another woman - no, _ a child _ \- of a Lord Paramount, no less! And while your precious wolf girl had three - _ three _ ,” the number came out in a hiss, “Kingsguard to protect _ her _ as you fought so valiantly _ for her _ , it was left to only Ser Jaime to protect _ us _.” 

Rhaegar paled, not knowing what to say. “I - Tywin Lannister was captured! And he will be tried tomorrow.” If he thought that would pacify her somehow, he was stupider than she realized. “The soldiers he sent,” he sighed wearily as though it was he who had nearly watched their children be killed. “The pig,” he hissed, “who attacked Rhaenys lived long enough to talk. Tywin thought that if we won, he’d blame it on rebel actors. I imagine he thought I’d marry his daughter then,” he mumbled. “And if Robert had won, I suppose he wanted to clear the path to the throne. He did not seem to account for his son...intervening.” 

“Clear the path?? Intervening?” She seethed. “That’s how you describe your children almost being killed? Your wife nearly raped and killed?” His eyes widened. “Oh,” her lips curled in a false smile. “Did you not know? Yes, I was almost raped - by a man _ you _ knighted. How did he so eloquently tell me Aegon would die?” she asked in mock thought. “Ah, I remember now. He said he would tear me open and then he would smash our baby against his wall to split his skull open. That would have been our fate - while you fucked a wolf in my homeland - if it had not been for Ser Jaime. ” 

His face had been engulfed in horror and she could see his eyes watering, “Elia, please, forgive me, I-”

“Oh, no, no, husband,” she cut him off. “You don’t get to cry. Not now. Do not try to make me think you care for us or thought about us.” And then it dawned on her. “Gods, you hadn’t even thought about the fact you could have lost - and what would have happened to your own family, had you?”

He tried to regain himself, but words seemed to fail him. And again he said something stupid. “Lyanna is my family too. And...our child.” 

Elia’s eyes widened before she willed them closed and took a deep breath. “You got her with child.” 

“Yes. The dragon must have three heads, I told you this, Elia.” 

“The Others take you and your damned prophecies, Rhaegar!” she whispered out a yell as quietly as she could. “You may not love us, but you will not bastardize our children or take our son’s birthright!”

“I do love you! And I wouldn’t do that to Aegon, he will be king after me, I swear to you! How could you think that?” 

She huffed, tossing her arms up into the air, wanting to gesture around them as though the answer was not obvious. _ Why have the Gods cursed me with this fool? _

“Well, where are they now? Your wolf girl and your Visenya?” she asked, crossing her arms. 

He winced - not in pain, but in anger, she noted. 

“She did not birth a Visenya - it is a boy. She calls him Jon, I call him Jaehaerys.” He said it as though it cost him greatly to let the words escape his lips. 

There was a stirring in the other room just then before a tiny voice creaked. “Mama?” Rhaenys had started to stir awake. “Mama, where are you?” Her voice was growing frantic. 

“Here, my love, here,” Elia said, rushing back to the bed. “I’m here, I’m not leaving.” She leaned down to kiss her forehead. Rhaenys closed her eyes, and when she opened them she saw her father at the end of the bed. 

Her eyes began to well up with tears as she looked at him. “I called for you, papa. I waited for you in your room. But you never came, and the man hurt me.” Her face crumpled. “Why did you leave us? Was I bad? I did not mean to be,” her small voice broke as tears spilled rapidly down her face. 

Rhaegar’s face fell and he moved to the side of the bed again to crouch down, level with her face. “No, my little dragon, never! And I’m here now.” He reached out to take one of her hands, but she drew back. 

“Mama,” she whimpered, turning away from him on her uninjured side so could be closer to her mother. “Where is Ser Jaime?” she whispered with a small sob. 

Elia looked at her husband with steel in her eyes and voice. “I think you should leave, my King. She needs to rest. And please have the guards fetch Ser Jaime.” 

He looked at their daughter and nodded slowly before he rose. As he moved to open the door, he heard Elia speak. 

“Rhaegar,” she said in a sweet voice that was clearly meant to not upset their daughter. He looked back at her. “She will never be the same. Never forget that - and never forget your role,” she sang to him. 

There was nothing left to say in that moment because he knew she was right.

It took some time, but Rhaenys seemed to warm back up to him after another a month or so. She still had nightmares though not as often, and he would come to her room to comfort her. It almost made her forget that he wasn’t there that horrible night. He would soothe her and sing to her and she would fall back asleep in his arms, clutching onto him as though he would disappear. When she learned to read, they would spend hours together in the library. She had loved to impress him with her Valyrian and once gifted him with a book she wrote in their ancestral language. It was about her cat, Balerion. There was an image of the feline scrawled on the cover and while she drew most of it, she said she had let Jon draw his whiskers and Aegon his nose. 

All of that - moments of warmth, the closeness she felt towards him - fell away when she was just past nine name days. It was just after the Greyjoy Rebellion. He’d been reading at the desk in his sitting room when she’d burst in. She was tiny and so young, but somehow the expression on her face reminded him of his mother when she was angry. 

“Why did you leave us?” she asked, breathing hard. Her eyes were aflame but looked full of despair. 

The Kingsguard at his door look from the small princess to their King not knowing what to do. Rhaegar waved them away and they shut the door. 

“My little dragon,” he said, slightly confused. “What are you speaking of? I’m here, I haven’t left you.” 

“I heard people talking about it! They say you left mama and us for a new wife, a wolf!” she shouted. 

_ Someone has told her, _he realized. His heart began to beat faster. He had made it known that no one was to speak of the Rebellion to the children, but he wondered if he could avoid it forever. Apparently not. 

“I remember that night! When the man hurt me with his knife! You weren’t there because you didn’t want us?” 

“Rhaenys, no! Who told you that?” he got up from his desk quickly to embrace her, but she ran from him. 

“I remember the pale lady. She was Jon’s mother, wasn’t she?” she said shakily. “The one who died?” 

He winced but tried to carry on as he moved closer to her. “Rhaenys, none of that matters now. We are all here and I’m not leaving you ever again,” he told her, bending down putting his arms around her. 

She looked at him and Gods, he didn’t know that such a small child could look so fierce. _ Blood of the dragon. _ “They said you ran away with her, that you left us and that the Old Lion almost killed us because of it!” Tears had begun to pour out of her eyes that were so much like his own. 

He didn’t know what to say. “The bad men are gone, my sweet. You don’t have to worry anymore.” He should have known that would not convince her, his daughter was too smart. 

Her eyes darted around, he could see her mind working, her brows furrowed feverishly. “You weren’t there that night...you weren’t there and the bad men came...I screamed for you.” One of her small hands had started to clutch at her stomach rhythmically, and she looked like she was in a trance before her eyes locked on him. “That’s why the man tried to kill me - because you did not want us.” She said it so calmly it sent chills down his spine. 

“No! I wasn’t there because….because…it had to be done to save us all,” he tried to tell her calmly. Gods, what could he say? She couldn’t understand the prophecy. _ That’s why I did it after all, _ he told himself.

She tore herself from him. “No! You’re a liar!” She pushed him before running and pulling the door open, flying down the hall. Ser Barristan looked at the King before Ser Jonothor took off after Rhaenys, her name echoing in the hall as Rhaegar called out for her running. 

The nightmares that had left her once came back that night, but she would only let her mother comfort her from then on. 

***************************

_ Present day, King’s Landing _

“May I see the scroll, my queen?” Rhaegar asked. She could tell he was attempting to be light in his address but was failing. 

She handed it to him and he read it, as they all looked on with apprehension. It was no secret to anyone that his relationship with Rhaenys was tense to say the least. Jaime looked at her and she could tell that he was nervous. Elia knew the knight loved Rhaenys like a daughter and was proud of how close they were, but it didn’t make it less awkward around Rhaegar. 

Rhaegar looked up and folded the scroll, but kept it with him instead of handing it back to Elia. “Well, I’m glad they made it safely. I look forward to hearing about what they learn at the Wall.” 

His tone was far too polite, and Elia knew it was an act. “Aegon, why don’t you show your father what you’ve been working on with Ser Arthur today?” 

She gave Ser Barristan and Ser Jaime a look and they took a few steps back to give the King and Queen some privacy. 

She sighed. “What’s wrong, Rhaegar?” 

“Nothing, why do you ask?”

She rolled her eyes and let out a deep huff. “You act as though you are younger than Aegon. I know something is wrong.” He said nothing so she pressed on. “Will you give me the scroll back then?”

His hand tightened at her request and then he looked to her before glancing down at the scroll. He seemed so small to her at that moment. “She did not mention me at all,” he said quietly. 

“Rhaegar...it was a message meant for all of us,” she said softly. 

“Ah, and yet she addresses it to you and leaves specific messages within for Aegon and Ser Jaime,” he retorted. 

“Aegon is her brother.” 

“And Ser jaime?” he asked angrily. 

Elia could feel the poor Lion tighten behind them, surely he heard that. There was no answer that would comfort Rhaegar but she tried. “You know how seriously she takes her training and Ser Jaime is her primary instructor. She wants him to know that she is still working while in the North, that is all. I’m sure she’ll send word to you once they are at the Wall.” 

“Elia, I don’t know what to do. Every day, I think perhaps she will forgive me, but as she gets older, it seems like she hates me more,” he lamented.

“You take all that from a letter?” she asked, trying to lighten the mood. 

“You know it is not only about the letter, Elia.” 

She sighed heavily. “I know, but I don’t know what else to tell you,” she complained. “Your relationship with Jon and Aegon has always been strong,” she said, trying to find something sweet for him to chew on even if it wasn’t entirely true. Jon followed Rhaenys, and even he thought his father and Lyanna had been selfish. 

Her attempts to lighten the conversation did not work. “And yet my eldest child and only daughter shuns me.” 

“You cannot demand of her what she is not ready to give,” she told him sternly, her patience wearing thin for a discussion they’d had a million times already. 

“And if she is never ready? Will she never forgive me? You did!” he said. 

She could feel her teeth grinding as her jaw clenched. “I did not forgive you,” she said quietly. He flinched as she said the words. “I thought I have always made myself clear on that, but apparently not. I will never be able to forgive you for abandoning us to the Stranger and worse, but I knew then as I know now that we must move forward. We cannot dwell in the past, we can only learn from it. And I’m not sure you learned from the past, did you, Rhaegar?” Her words came out in a near whisper but they shook the air between them. 

He looked at her in anguish. “How long must Rhaenys and I continue on like this - until I die?” he asked, anger and longing lacing his words. 

Elia took a deep breath as she looked up to the sky, wondering if it would give her an answer._ How many times must we go through this? Why will he not listen or learn? _The sky did not answer her, so she looked back at her husband. “What do you want me to say, Rhaegar? Do you remember the day you came back after the attack? Do you remember what I told you then?” 

He looked at her before turning his gaze to Aegon and Ser Arthur, though his eyes were absent. “You said she would never be the same, and I was part of it.” 

“Yes, that is correct. And in all these years, you have not found a way to connect to her because you are not honest with her and she knows it. You have never wanted to admit the truth of your actions back then.” 

“Everything was for the prophecy!” he said indignantly. 

Elia cocked her head to the side. _ So beautiful, so daft. _“And that it why you fail, husband.” She patted him on the cheek twice and got up. She went to say goodbye to Aegon and then asked if Jaime would escort her to the gardens.

They walked by a fountain then through an aisle of orange and purple flowers. She turned to him with a small smirk on her face. “Rhaenys was more descriptive in her letter about her sparring. She wrote something along the lines of using a move you had used on her before that knocked her on her arse.”

A deep laugh tumbled out of the Kingsguard. “Gods, I miss her.” 

She stopped him then, placing a hand on his arm. “She misses you too. She said that in the letter, but I did not want to say it in front of him.” She resumed their walk then. “Though I didn’t realize he was going to ask for the letter itself,” she said flatly before letting out a sigh of frustration. “He thinks I forgave him. Just because I stayed - Gods, I stayed for the children!” She breathed with exasperation. “And it would not do any of us any good if I nurtured my resentment. Nothing good would grow from that - just branches of weakness for others to exploit. How does he not see that?” 

He looked at her thoughtfully. “Men - _ people _ \- with power see what they _ want _ to see. Getting them to see reality - or rather, what they might not want to see, is often...impossible,” the knight mused. “Power is often as bad as madness,” he added quietly. 

She turned to him with a raised eyebrow. “That was bold, even for you,” she said, a hint of a smile on her lips. “I had not realized you were such a philosopher, Ser Jaime.” He shrugged with a smirk as they continued to walk through the flowers. “In any case, I’m sorry I did not get to show you the letter. But I wanted you to know that she misses you, she would want you to know,” she said quietly, smiling at him. 

He returned the smile though looked wistful. “It’s odd not having her here. It makes me feel old somehow,” he said in a confused tone. 

As they walked, she let her hand gently fall across flowers that they went by, grazing their petals. “It’s a pity they are missing the weather here,” she sighed before looking at him as they turned down an aisle that led towards the water. “I hope I’m not keeping you from anything, Jaime. I’m not sure how Ser Barristan had you scheduled today.” 

He looked around them before plucking a white flower from a small patch just before them. He handed it to her as he held her gaze, eyes slightly darker and sparkling with warmth. “I have all the time to spend in the sun, My Queen.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Definitely made up that Maester name cause I wanted Pycelle outta the picture lol. 
> 
> In any case, wanted this chapter to give you a little bit of background on Rhaenys and Rhaegar, but we'll be back in Winterfell next, promise


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't meant to go so long without an update, but here you go! Hope it doesn't suck too much, wrote this while dosed up on cold medicine

Rhaenys awoke with a start to her name being repeated over and over excitedly. Mixed in was the occasional bark of a direwolf. 

She sat up from her bed groggily and looked at her morning visitors. “Good morning, Arya,” she said, rubbing her face as her eyes adjusted begrudgingly. “To what do I owe this very early pleasure?” 

Arya jumped on Rhaenys’s bed quickly, the sheets tangling around them, pulling at her arm. “Come on! It’s time to get dressed. Today we’re going for a picnic!” 

Rhaenys remembered then. It was the one thing that seemed to excite both Arya and Sansa - they were going to ride out of the castle for a picnic with all the children. 

“Surely we’re not leaving this early, are we?” she asked the little wolf with a yawn as she stretched her arms up. She desperately wanted to lie back down and soak in the warmth that enveloped her. It never failed, but with each day they spent at Winterfell she was continually surprised at how warm it was inside the castle. 

Arya slowed her movement. “Well, no. But…we’ll go soon!” she declared earnestly. “And I want you to come to the kitchen with me to make sure we have the best food! Please?” She’d stilled her body then and gazed at Rhaenys with those eyes that reminded her so much of Jon. 

Rhaenys relented, knowing there was no point in trying to go back to sleep now as it was. “Fine, fine! I’ll get dressed, I promise!” 

The time eventually came for them to leave for the picnic, and she walked out with Jon to meet the others. It would just be them with all five Stark children, Theon, Tyrion and some guards. She was surprised that Tyrion was joining them, but she could tell that he enjoyed being around the Stark brood. Rickon was to ride with Robb, while Bran and Arya had ponies saddled for them. As Rhaenys climbed onto her horse, she heard Bran call out to someone before running across the yard. He crashed into Benjen who was just about to enter inside. 

“Uncle Benjen! Are you not coming with us?” Bran asked urgently, his blue eyes wide and bright. 

Benjen let out a small chuckle before ruffling Bran’s hair. “I don’t want to intrude on you young ones’ outing. I was going to go over a few things with your father anyways,” he told him gently, patting him on the shoulder. 

That did it. Then Arya ran over to him, followed by Sansa - who didn’t run as much as walk briskly, still somehow managing to seem entirely proper. 

“Please, Uncle!” Arya pleaded, tugging on his arm before latching herself around his leg. Bran followed suit, wrapping himself around Benjen’s other leg. Sansa clasped his hand in hers and looked at him with her eyes big and eyebrows raised, waiting for a response. 

“Gods!” he exclaimed, laughing heartily. “I’ll go, I’ll go! But I won’t be going anywhere with the two of you strapped to my legs. We won’t make it to the woods before night falls like this,” he relented. 

They cheered in their victory, Arya, Bran and even Sansa all moving to hug him. And with their latest addition in tow, they were off. 

* * *

They’d ridden to a patch of woods not far from the castle and where the summer snows were not too deep. The sounds of a nearby stream flowed into the little clearing they had settled in, as they placed wool blankets across the grass. 

With the baskets down and opened for the food, the picnic commenced. Oddly, Rhaenys found herself reminded of Dorne of all places - even with the snow around her. It was the leisurely rhythm that filled the air as they relaxed on the blankets, all enjoying the peace and freedom they were being afforded at that moment. Even with the high energy of the youngest children, it still felt like they were stretching time, basking in the glow of the last of the summer’s sun. She always loved being outdoors, away from the suffocation of King’s Landing, and being enveloped by what nature would give her. 

Chewing the last of her bread, she stared at the group around her. Finished with their food for now, the youngest were up and running around. Bran was sitting atop the shoulders of Benjen who was walking them around as Bran asked about ‘giants and ghouls’ beyond the wall. Arya was watching and waiting for her turn, moving from one foot to the other. As she observed them all, Rhaenys began to realize how pleasantly surprised she was by the Starks. For so long, she had viewed them in one way or another but never more than one - it was either solely as Jon's other family; or the rebels; or the family and home of Lyanna Stark. They were all of those things but somehow it was odd to reconcile them together.

And now on top of that, they had welcomed her into their home and were steadily working their way into her heart before she had even realized it. It was no secret that she and Arya had taken to each other like thieves on the run. She had become very fond of the fierce little Stark. _ Would this what it would have been like if I’d ever had a younger sister? _ she wondered. 

It was hard for her to trust anyone other than her family. She didn’t know how to when she couldn't even trust her father. Here though, she felt her walls coming down slightly - it was terrifying and freeing all at once. Everything felt real, she realized. In King’s Landing, she was forced to guard herself or play a part - all to protect her and her family. She thought she would have to do the same here, if not more so - but in fact, it felt the opposite. Perhaps it was because she was surrounded by youths and not a court of lords and ladies. But somehow she knew it was not simply that and it unnerved her. 

All of a sudden she was broken out of her thoughts by Bran.

“Why haven’t you flown your dragons yet?” Bran asked her and Jon, his eyes bright and curious. He had climbed down from Benjen’s shoulders, and Arya had replaced him on that seat just as quickly. 

Jon smiled at his young cousin as he came to sit next to them on the blanket. “They need to grow a bit more. Just like you’ll soon be big enough to ride a horse instead of a pony, they’ll soon be big enough for us to ride them.” He glanced at Rhaenys before looking back to Bran, though the little boy caught the look Jon had given his sister. 

“Are you sure? Why did you look at Rhaenys?” he asked genuinely. 

Rhaenys laughed lightly, thinking of how much children see. _ And that we do not give them credit for. _“Well,” Rhaenys began, “the truth is, we still don’t know much about them. But we hope we’ll be able to ride them someday.”

He looked down, his face scrunched in thought, before he looked back up at her. “But how will you know?” 

It was a good and valid question. Rhaenys looked over at his direwolf. “How did you decide to call your wolf Summer?” she asked Bran. 

He blinked, looking at his furry companion. “It’s just what felt right,” he replied thoughtfully. 

“I suppose it will be the same for us - we’ll just know when it’s right, if it’s right.” He seemed content with that answer, smiling at her. 

“If you like…” she said quietly with a mischievous grin, “I could show you how to fly right now.” 

His eyes went wide. “What do you mean!” he asked excitedly. Arya’s ears perked up then too. She directed Benjen over to them with urgency so she could hear Rhaenys’s revelation. 

Rhaenys adjusted herself, laying down on her back with her knees bent. She looked over to Bran and gestured for him to come over. “I want you to put your chest against my legs, lying against them. Can you do that?” 

He scurried across the blanket to her, stopping before her legs to examine them. He looked to her and she gave him an encouraging smile. He moved so his skinny body rested against her legs. 

“Ok, do you trust me?” she asked Bran. She heard Jon laugh next to her, as he knew what she was going to do. Bran looked to Jon who gave him a nod and a smile. 

“Yes!” he said in an excited whisper. 

“Alright, stretch your arms out, like you’re a bird flying,” she instructed him. He did so quickly, looking at her, waiting for what was to come. _ Gods, I hope he doesn’t think I’m horribly boring at the end of this. _

She lifted her legs and his body with them, swaying them back and forth. “It’s not as high as a dragon, but at least you can get the feel, right?” she asked him with a grin. 

He laughed in delight, trying to stretch his arms more somehow and then tossed his head back with his eyes closed. 

Arya’s eyes went wide, a smile just as big spreading across her face, before she crawled down from Benjen’s shoulders to run over to Jon quickly, insisting that he do the same. He obliged without hesitation. Soon it was Rickon on Robb’s legs and then there were three wolves flying like dragons. 

The game lost its novelty eventually and Robb turned to entertaining Rickon, making a game out of hiding a rock. Arya and Bran were running after each other, climbing over large tree roots before they began a journey upwards along the trunk of a towering tree, Bran ahead of Arya. Back on the picnic blankets, Jon was answering all of Sansa’s questions about the capital, patiently responding to queries about knights and even dresses occasionally. Tyrion and Theon were engaged in what was clearly a ribald discussion, occasionally taking swigs from the Lannister’s wine skin. 

Rhaenys turned to the remaining companion of their troupe. She knew not what to make of Benjen. He had not been terribly warm to her when they first met, though that simply seemed related to her joining them at the Wall. Or so she hoped. Though he did seem to soften a bit since that first meeting.

He felt like contradictions bundled into one man. _ A handsome man _, she found herself thinking unconsciously, watching as the wind teased his long dark hair away from his face. He was young but seemed far older when she looked into his eyes. And while she had observed that he could be tough and coarse, she had also picked up on a softer shade, evidenced most particularly when he was around the children. 

He was dressed in a leather doublet and breeches today, all black of course, but had shed his cloak early into the picnic. 

“Are you not cold?” she asked him, fidgeting slightly with the blanket beneath them. 

He laughed at the question. “This? This is not cold, Princess. If you think this is cold, I’m not sure you’ll make the journey to the Wall, let alone the destination.” 

She bristled slightly, her shoulders straightening at the comment. Perhaps she was being too sensitive but she could help but feel like it was a suggestion that she should not come. _ Jon is not the one who writes back and forth with our Uncle, and I am not some frail flower. _

“I feel like you don’t think I should be coming to the Wall. Am I right?” she asked bluntly. Maybe that was too bold, but she felt a bit annoyed that he and Lord Stark had both questioned whether she should come. 

His eyes shot up in surprise, perhaps not expecting her to address him so directly. “I - it is not an easy journey, that is all. And you will not be greeted by a beautiful Northern castle like Winterfell with gallant knights. It is a cold, grey place full of...less than honorable men,” he told her cautiously.

She looked at him carefully before replying. “I don’t know what I’ve done to give you the impression that I expect another Winterfell. And I’m as good a fighter as both of your nephews, I can take care of myself.” Her indigo eyes held his gaze firmly. 

He let out a small laugh with just a hint of disbelief at her fiery response. “I’ll have to take your word for it then. As long as you know what is to come, I shall not question you again on this.” She acknowledged him with a nod. 

Benjen didn’t know what to make of the princess. She wasn’t what he would have thought most ‘princesses’ would act like, in fact. But Jon had always spoken fondly of her, and his nephew was not one to exaggerate so perhaps he should not have been surprised by the young woman in front of him. He still had some apprehensions about her presence at the Wall, more so due to the men there. But Ned had said he would watch over her. Given the amount of time they were about to spend around each other, he resolved to try and make amends with her, if only for Jon’s sake. 

“Well, what do you think of the North so far?” he asked her, trying to ease the offense he had clearly given. 

She relaxed then, glad for the change in discussion. “I’m glad Jon asked me to come. I did not know what to expect, in truth, but everyone has been quite welcoming. And this,” she said, gesturing the landscape around them, “is beyond what I could have imagined. Everything feels fresh and open. It really is a sight to behold.” 

“Aye, it is beautiful country,” he said fondly looking around them. He was twirling a piece of grass in his fingers, one elbow perched on the knee of his bent leg. “The journey to the Wall may be hard, but it is also quite breathtaking. And the Wall, well...” he paused in thought before continuing, his eyes brightening, tinted with wonder. “Even after all these years there, there are still days where I find myself staring at it, wondering how it can be real. And the view from the top - it does truly feel like you’re at the edge of the world. Lannister isn’t wrong about that.” 

She smiled, glad that it felt like perhaps he was opening up to her a bit. “I look forward to you pointing out your favorite spots on the journey there and showing us to the top - as I tremble terribly in the cold all the while,” she said dryly but her words were good-humored, accompanied by half a smile, and it earned her a laugh from the ranger. 

Nearby Bran and Arya were running in a field and the sun was beginning its descent towards the earth. Rhaenys regarded them, as did Benjen, watching as the two young Starks created a haze of snow that blew into the sky. 

“It’s nice that you came today,” she told him softly and he turned to look at her. “It’s obvious how happy it has made them,” she continued, looking over to Arya and Bran running around and then to Sansa and Rickon on the blankets near them. 

“I only get to see them every so often. I’d rather not disappoint them if I can help it,” he answered, almost wistful. He looked at the blade of grass in his hands, before turning his attention towards his niece and nephew, Sansa having become very excited suddenly. It sounded as though Jon had mentioned something to her about a knight and a tourney.

"I thoroughly enjoy listening to Jon have to drone on about the capital. I wonder how long he'll last," she said, laughing quietly to the ranger. She looked back at Sansa before her eyes shifted over to Arya who was running after Bran. “They’re so different,” Rhaenys pondered. “It’s like night and day.” 

He sighed. "She does love her tales of knights. Ned thinks that Arya is the one that will give him grief as she grows, but I think he underestimates her. I hope perhaps Sansa will...grow out of these fancies.” 

A slight cloud formed over Rhaenys’s face. "I hope so as well. Jon is being far too kind in his description of some of these knights. She’s going to think they're all kind and gallant, as though Florian and Jonquil is what awaits her," she let out with a tone mixed of concern and distaste. “The bards sing of the great love of the likes of Aemon the Dragonknight and Queen Naerys, as though doomed love is what we should aspire to." Her voice was both flat and heavy somehow, he noted. "It makes people, especially young girls, believe their life should be a dramatic, romantic song,” she said looking down, shaking her head. 

Benjen looked at her solemnly before he gazing out to the hills, his eyes more absent now. “You speak true, Princess. They are false dreams, indeed.” She looked up at him and was surprised by how vulnerable he appeared in that moment - not at all like the gruff ranger she had seen the past few days. 

The sadder turn of the conversation was cut short by Sansa who had broken out their dessert of lemon cakes. She pulled a napkin off the bowl holding them, offering the sweets to Rhaenys first with a hopeful look. 

“Oh, thank you but I’ve never been terribly fond of sweet things,” Rhaenys told her kindly. The look on Sansa’s face was shock and disappointment, and Rhaenys immediately felt a pang of guilt. “But if you like them so much, Lady Sansa, then I’m sure these will be the exception to that,” she continued, earning a warm smile from the young red-headed girl. 

Rhaenys picked one up and took a bite. It was tasty, that was to be sure, but she truly did not like so much sweetness in her mouth. But it seemed to make Sansa happy and it wasn’t so painful a task. She heard a small laugh to her side and saw Benjen eyeing her. She gave him a look as to convey that she was trying to be a gracious guest. 

He leaned closer and whispered into her ear. “The trick of it is to eat it with a berry or two. The tartness cuts the sweetness, I promise,” he advised her, offering her a few berries in his hand. She should have thought of that, she realized, before taking a few from Benjen with thanks. She bit into a blueberry and before she knew it, some of the juice had started to drip down her chin. 

“In order for the berries to help, you must eat all of it, Your Grace,” he said with amusement. 

“I’m trying!” she said quietly, her mouth still slightly full while she wiped the juice away as it trickled down. After swallowing the bite, she looked back at him trying to hide a smile and failing. She tossed a berry at him in protest, and he caught it without even trying before popping it in his mouth. 

“Well?” he asked, seemingly already confident that his words had been correct. 

Her lips quirked slightly. “It was much better, you were right,” she answered and then grabbed a few more berries. “You shouldn’t be so smug, you know - you have sugar in your beard. It almost ages you,” she chided.

He wiped at his beard as they laughed and finished their lemon cakes with supplemental tartness, Rhaenys licking away some of the sugar stuck to her fingers. Benjen was glad that the brief tension between him and princess over her coming to the Wall had dissipated. As they began to pack up the food and blankets to return to Winterfell, he observed her and Jon together, so at ease and warm, and was some relief to know that his nephew truly had a family that loved him back in the capital. 

As the group rode back to the castle, Benjen didn’t notice that his eyes kept straying from the path ahead of him. Instead every few moments they slipped to glance to the side towards Rhaenys. Her face was bright and flushed from the cold wind and her smile wide as she laughed, riding next to Arya. Her braided hair whipped in the air while one strand after another loosed from the bind, creating a dark blur behind her. 

Later he found himself idly wondering if he had seen smoke from a burning fire in the snow-covered hills. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're interested in this weird ship I'm trying to set sail, please leave kudos/comments! Next chapter - which will be longer - hopefully coming sooner than this short one did


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "...a small voice in the back of his head asked him if he should be sitting so close to the Princess - alone - late at night. 
> 
> He silenced the voice. Because listening to hers had felt so much better."

Their days at Winterfell were now at the point where there were fewer left than spent. As time ticked away, it seemed like the sparring sessions were getting longer and more intense. This particular afternoon, Benjen had been walking by when he stopped to observe a session and watched with surprise and mild amusement as the Princess bested Robb in their last round. 

She gave Robb a small bow and nod as Jon pulled Robb to him so they could face each other. Rhaenys then came over to where Benjen was standing and took a spot next to him, drinking from a waterskin. 

“So you know your way with a sword too,” he remarked, his eyes twinkling with mirth. 

She gave him a look that showed she was none too pleased. “Why are you surprised?” she asked him, slightly exasperated. “From what I hear, the ladies of House Mormont are quite accomplished warriors. And if I remember correctly from Uncle Aemon’s letters, wildling women are just as fierce as the men. You seem to always doubt me, Benjen.” 

He raised his eyebrows at her before choosing his words. “I just did not think it was common for southern ladies or princesses for that matter to train like this.” He paused before speaking again, his eyes soft and warm. “I was actually complimenting you,” he added with a smile. “But please accept my humblest apologies, Princess.” 

Her mouth quirked trying to hide a smile. “You are forgiven, Benjen. But before we leave, you must spar with me. I require some form of payment for this slight on my abilities after all.” 

He gave her a humble nod. “As you wish. I suppose I did ask you before to show me what you’ve been teaching my niece.” 

The smile broke out onto Rhaenys’s face. “She’s picked it up quickly. She’ll be a fierce warrior. I hope Lord and Lady Stark encourage her.” 

He was about to ask her when the next lesson was so he could join, until he saw her expression change and her eyes widen. When he looked in the direction her eyes were pointed towards, he saw why and smiled. 

“Ah, my wayward girl,” Benjen said with a grin, rising to greet the very large direwolf approaching them. She was as large as Lord Stark’s companion, if not bigger. 

“How long has she been with you? Since she was small?” Rhaenys asked, still slightly taken aback at the size of the wolf in front of her. She was nearly the size of a pony! Is this how big Ghost would be eventually?

The wolf eyed her, her eyes like copper watching Rhaenys with curiosity. Benjen ran a soothing hand over the direwolf’s head and she leaned into him, nearly pushing him over. He let out a laugh before replying to Rhaenys. “No, she found me not too long ago when she was already grown. Though it was not too much longer after the litter ended up here, I believe.” 

“That seems like a strange coincidence, no?” she asked. 

HIs lips twisted slightly in thought as he looked at Rhaenys. “I always thought so as well. The direwolves arrived around the time dragons seem to find their way back to your family too, if I heard correctly.”

It had always struck her as odd that Jon returned to them with a wolf just after the dragons hatched. But Measter Aemon did not know what to make of it and neither did she and not one of the books or scrolls she had gone through had been of help in that endeavor either. She didn’t trust the other maesters enough to ask them - she knew most were quite wary of magic. And what were dragons if not magic? 

The wolf moved away from Benjen then and approached Rhaenys, who sucked in a breath, her body stilling. 

“It’s alright, she won’t hurt you,” Benjen whispered and moved to Rhaenys’s side. “Just give her your hand so she can know you.” 

She was used to Ghost and knew she shouldn’t be scared, but she still felt intimidated. Rhaenys gulped and then looked at Benjen. He gave her a comforting look which brought a small smile to her lips. She looked back to the curious wolf and slowly brought out a hand. 

Benjen’s wolf gazed at the offering for a moment before moving to sniff it. She then gave it a quick lick before nudging it, seemingly asking for Rhaenys to pet her. Rhaenys let out a cry and laugh of relief. 

“She likes you,” Benjen remarked, watching fondly as Rhaenys continued to pet the dark wolf. 

“Here,” he said, stepping close to Rhaenys to put his hand over hers and guide it behind his wolf’s ears. Rhaenys glanced at him for a brief moment, catching his eyes. “This is her favorite spot,” he told her quietly. A flush took over Rhaenys’s cheeks and she quickly turned her attention back to the wolf. She put both hands on the wolf’s head then, scratching behind her ears and winning low murmuring rumbles of approval from the furry beast. 

“Hmm, perhaps she senses the bits of First Men blood from our Dayne ancestor,” Rhaenys said in amusement. “Or perhaps it is that of Black Betha of the Riverlands,” she said more dramatically. 

“And perhaps wolves are just drawn to you, Princess,” Benjen told her with a laugh. 

She continued to admire the creature in front of her. “She’s so beautiful, I’ve never seen eyes like that, though I suppose I only know the wolves here,” she said with a shrug and a smile. “What do you call her?” 

Before he could answer, they were interrupted by Jon and Robb who had finished their sparring together. 

“Princess, I think your brother is in need of your help - I took this session in the end, Jon seems to be lagging a bit,” Robb said warmly with a smile. Jon looked at him with a mix of exasperation and amusement. 

“I almost had you in that last round,” Jon protested but smiled nonetheless. 

“Come on, Uncle Benjen,” Robb said, turning his attention to their uncle. “If I’m not going to get to join you all at the Wall, then come spar with me a bit, hmm?” 

Benjen pushed off the wall he was leaning against and pulled his nephew in for a hug. “Aye, show me how you bested this one,” he said as he turned to ruffle Jon’s hair. 

“Princess, I leave her in your capable hands,” he added with a nod to the direwolf before leaving with Robb. Jon took a seat next to his sister who was now comfortably settled with Benjen’s direwolf laying down on top of her feet to rest. 

Jon looked ahead to where Robb and Benjen were in the yard, but for a moment his eyes darted quickly to the side to Rhaenys. “You know, Robb is quite a good fighter,” he told her, trying to sound light and casual. 

She nodded in agreement and then turned her head to look at him skeptically. “I know that, I’ve been sparring with him.” 

His eyes darted around and then settled on the ground as his hands twirled the sparring sword a bit. “You seem to like it here. Robb would be a good match. Have you thought about that?” He was the least subtle person she knew. _ What luck for men that court is easier for them, _ she found herself thinking before coming back to his words in the present. 

Her brow furrowed, as she looked at him sternly though also a bit confused. “What are you talking about? I thought you were just teasing me before when you said he liked me.” 

“Well,” he said, adjusting his shoulders nervously, “perhaps a bit, but..it’s the truth! I think he does like you. But also you two would make a nice match. There aren’t that many good ones out there, you know? Who else would you choose to marry?” 

She blinked at him, realizing he was serious. Since when did Jon think about her marriage options? “I did not come here to chase after a husband,” she let out in a huff. She turned her head from him and moved to pet the direwolf at her feet, trying to regain her calm. “I just wanted to know my brother’s family, see the Wall and beyond and visit our great uncle before he leaves this world.”

“Rhae, I know you didn’t come here for a husband,” he said with a sigh. “But surely you must see that Robb would be a good match, don’t you?” he told her quietly, not wanting to draw attention. “You can’t have thought father would have allowed you to come if he didn’t already have my cousin in mind for a betrothal for you.” 

Her head snapped back to him then. “First of all, father never mentioned anything of the sort to me. Second of all, I was the one who suggested this trip - I would have come somehow or another, with or without _ his _ approval.” Maybe that wasn’t entirely realistic or true, but this felt like a ridiculous conversation. 

And then something dawned on her. 

“Wait, did you talk about this with him? With father?” she asked in disbelief. 

His face somehow turned paler than it already was. “I...no! It’s not like that. He just asked me what I thought about Robb and if he was a good man, that’s all.” He gulped quietly. “And he might have asked me if I thought you two would...suit each other,” he added in a whisper, shrinking slightly. 

She stared at him incredulously. “Why didn’t you tell me? Were you discussing marriage matches for me with him? _With_ _him_?” she asked in a low voice. 

He opened his mouth to speak but didn’t have any words. They sat in silence for a few tense moments. “Robb is kind and honest, you know that, right?” Jon said quietly, just a hint of a plea tracing his voice. 

“Gods!” She took in a deep breath to calm herself, her cheeks ballooning as she held the air in, before letting it out. “I don’t mean to yell. I know how close you are with your cousin. And yes, I know he is a good person,” she sighed, looking up to the sky. She hated getting mad at either one of her brothers - almost as much as she sometimes hated being the oldest child. “I’m sorry, little brother, I don’t want to disappoint you,” she said with a deep breath. 

Jon gazed at her with conflicted, wide eyes before pulling her into her in a hug. “Rhae, I didn’t mean to upset you, I’m sorry. I just...I just like the idea of you two together. I want to make sure my sister is with a good, honorable man.” Her heart warmed hearing that, knowing that his intentions were good. 

“I know you mean well, but it’s not needed. And you if you are going to go about thinking about matches, you should think about the fact that your cousin would be better suited marrying someone Northern after...after everything,” she told him carefully. “I can’t imagine your uncle’s bannermen would take kindly to another Southern lady of Winterfell.” 

He looked at her and nodded in understanding, but still had a slightly defiant look in his yes. “Aye. Well...be that as it may, I do hope that while we’re here you’ll keep your mind open to him. He’s no flowery southern lord, Rhae,” he told her softly. “But if he isn’t right for you, then we’ll continue searching.” 

She pulled back to look at him with a weak smile. “I appreciate the thought, really. But I don’t need you to search for me. Perhaps I won’t marry at all - I’ll leave that to you and Aegon,” she said with a smirk. 

“Forget all of this, Rhae. We can always both be Kingsguard to Egg. That’d really piss off father, wouldn’t it?” She burst out laughing before embracing him again. Jon held their hug, knowing how much she hated speaking about their father.

“I’m sorry I spoke to him about it and didn’t tell you,” he told her quietly as they held each other. 

“I know, but...please. Please don’t do it again,” she replied just as quietly, closing her eyes. 

  
  


* * *

After her small argument with Jon, she decided to skip dinner, hoping to find some peace and solitude in the library of Winterfell. She wound her way up the narrow stairway outside that led to the tower until she got to the top. When she entered the library, she found that she was not alone. To her surprise - or really no surprise at all - Tyrion was there amidst the shelves of books. 

“Ah, so I was not alone in my idea to spend time amongst these ancient tomes, I see,” he greeted her. 

“You would be correct,” she said taking a seat across from him at the large table he was already seated at with a few books. “What are you reading?” 

“A maester’s account on the changing of the seasons. Riveting,” he said with a yawn. 

“Sounds like it,” she observed with a laugh. 

“You didn’t want to spend the evening with the young ones? Robb Stark seems quite keen on you, from what I can tell.” 

She nearly growled at him. “Not you too! Gods, will no one be content until we are wedded and bedded?” 

Tyrion's eyebrows shot up and he raised his hands in surrender. “I only meant to tease you, but I see I hit a nerve. What, not entranced by the handsome heir?” 

She sighed. “I just...I’m not...he’s very nice, but he’s a bit younger than me,” the princess said wearily. “Anyway, you’re not married,” she countered. “Why must I?” 

“Why not?” 

“You and I both know that’s a stupid response you give when you don’t have a good answer.” Rhaenys looked at him thoughtfully. “Why did you come, Tyrion? I’m glad you did, of course, but are you not bored here?” 

The Lannister lord took a sip of wine before responding. “I’m going to be stuck in that godforsaken small council chamber fairly soon. This seemed like my last reprieve before I’m attached. And that, to answer your previous question, feels like a marriage of its own kind, Princess.” 

Her lips quirked into an unwilling smile. “You are always very clever, Tyrion. Though I still think that is a false answer.” 

“Hmm,” he replied, and she could tell he did not want this conversation pushed. “Or perhaps you’re not interested in the young Stark because an older one has caught your eye?” 

Her eyes went wide. “What are you talking about?” 

“Come now, Rhaenys. I’ve seen the way you watch him while he trains with the young lords. You’re not looking at the heir - you’re looking at the ranger.” 

Her breath quickened. “That’s not true.”

He met that with a disbelieving shrug and a chuckle. “Who would have thought? I suppose he must seem quite dashing - tall, all in black and with tales of fighting wildlings and ghouls and grumpkins - and whatever else lurks beyond the Wall. Though he seems a bit broody.”

She was slightly at a loss for words. “I - I’ve just been admiring his fighting technique, that is all.”

He snorted. “Is that what they call it?” 

Rhaenys shot him a dark look and slumped in her chair a bit. “He’s a man of the Watch, I’m not a fool,” she grumbled. She thoroughly wanted out of this discussion and felt the distinct desire at that moment to be able to fly off on her dragon to Essos. Or the Summer Isles. Or really anywhere else. She quickly switched the topic to the books he had found in the library so far. 

They spoke a bit longer until the door to the library opened, a lantern entering through the frame held by Benjen. “Lannister,” he said dryly before looking to her. Then his eyes seemed to soften. “Princess."

“Well, perhaps that is my cue,” Tyrion told them, rising up stiffly from his chair. “Ah, Princess, before I forget - there are a number of Valyrian scrolls, there in that section of the library. They’re quite rare - dry, so you must be careful.” He looked from Rhaenys to Benjen and back to her with a small smile and then left them. 

“What brings you to these dusty shelves tonight, Benjen?” she asked, trying to forget Tyrion’s parting look. 

“Your old uncle, in fact. He wanted me to look to see if we might have a particular book here,” he answered, his eyes warm. 

“I can’t wait to meet him finally,” she sighed in anticipation, her eyes sparkling. “We’ve written to each other for so long, I can’t believe I’ll finally get to spend time with him in person.” 

The ranger stopped his search and came to the table to take a seat. He was dressed in black breeches and a thin grey tunic. He smelled of fresh soap and his hair was unbound and damp, most likely having just bathed. 

“I’ve read a few of your letters to him, you know. You really do write to him quite a lot,” he said, sitting down across from her at the table. As the candle light in the lantern swayed, she noted a little flicker of laughter in his eyes. 

“Ah, I always wondered who read the letters to him.”

“Well it’s not always me, usually it’s one of his stewards. But when I’m there and not Beyond the Wall, I like to spend time with him, help him if I can.” 

The princess felt an odd warmth hearing that, knowing that he felt a closeness to her uncle as well. “You must think I’m terribly boring after reading my letters, I suppose.”

His lips turned upwards a bit. “I wouldn't say boring. But you should talk to Old Nan now that I think about it, her tales might have a bit more sparkle to them than Aemon’s.”

She looked down as she laughed. “Yes, Robb mentioned the same thing. I’ll make sure to speak with her before we leave.”

“Your father writes to him too, if I remember, similar questions it seems like,” Benjen recalled with curiosity. 

That particular mention made her tense immediately. “Yes, well, he’s interested in the state of the Watch too, I suppose.” Her father was the last thing she felt person she felt like talking about, but she didn’t want to be rude. “So what is this book you’re looking for?” she asked him. 

He sighed, pulling out a tiny sheet of paper. “Something to do with dragons, I believe. I think it’s quite old too. The older books are in one area, but there are quite a lot of them.” 

“Well, two pairs of eyes searching are better than one, no? Let’s go,” she said confidently, getting up. “Lead the way.” 

His eyebrows shot up in surprise but he did as she suggested. She picked up her own lantern as he carried his and led them to a mustier section of the library. 

She went down one aisle as he went down the next and occasionally she would catch his face on the other side of the books, the flames dancing around them. She turned a corner and they met on the same aisle, Rhaenys looking at the books to their right and Benjen to those on their left. 

“Do you get to come back home often?” the princess inquired as her fingers grazed over one book after the other, reading the titles on the spines of the books as she went by slowly. 

He shook his head. “No, though in truth, I see my family far more than any of the other brothers. Part of it is that they’re here in the North and I make trips for supplies and recruitment.” 

“I suppose it doesn’t hurt that you’re a Stark and the brother of the Warden of the North,” she said with half a smile. 

That earned her a small laugh from the young ranger. “Yes, that does not hurt.” 

Rhaenys stopped as they got to the end of the aisle. There was a window just a few steps away with a small seat. They stood facing each other, as the moonlight fell in through the glass panes, a cool contrast against the orange flames of the torches they each held. “When did you join the Watch? You are...quite young, no?” she asked. She didn’t know why she wanted to know, but the question had left her lips all the same. 

“Ha, well I’m glad the cold hasn’t aged me too much,” he replied with a laugh before he sobered. “I joined...I joined shortly after the war ended.” 

She nodded in thought. “Where were you when it all happened? When the war broke out?” 

He flinched. It had been a long time since he had spoken about the war. “I was here. There must always be a Stark in Winterfell and I was it,” he said slightly strained. 

She nodded slowly. “How did you find out?” she asked cautiously, moving to sit on the bench by the window. 

He joined her there and took a deep breath before answering. “A raven.” His eyes went blank then. “I’ll never forget getting it. It was the worst day of my life.” The words came out in a whisper. 

“I’m sorry,” she said gently. “We don’t have to speak about it - if you don’t want to.” 

He looked at her for a few moments. “I don’t know, to be honest. I haven't spoken about it in a long time.” 

They stayed silent for a few moments, seated on the bench under the moonlight. “You must have been but a child then,” she finally said though it was more of a question. 

“Aye, I was twelve namedays when…,” he paused and looked at her, “...when I found out about my father and brother’s deaths.” 

The depth of grief was so apparent in his eyes and she felt like she should comfort him somehow - a soft hug, a hand on his cheek. But it felt too intimate for two people who didn’t really know each other. She supposed words were all she could extend to him. “That is so much to bear for someone so young. And Lord Stark - Eddard - he was not here then?” 

“No,” Benjen said with a shake of his head. “He’d been in the Vale where he was fostering and then he rode to Riverrun to marry Cat in Brandon’s place. And then it was to war.” 

She had forgotten that Lady Stark was originally intended to marry the oldest Stark brother. “I’m sorry you had to go through that alone, Benjen,” she said softly, tilting her head to the side, studying him. 

He gazed at her, swallowing down emotions that had begun to swell. “It was a long time ago, it’s in the past,” he replied somewhat gruffly. 

Her eyes looked around the room to the books that surrounded them, histories that likely shaped and brought them to where they were. “Nothing is ever truly just in the past - it is always around us,” Rhaenys said in a low voice, unconsciously clutching at her stomach. 

His gaze shifted to her and looking at her eyes, beautiful indigo eyes, he realized then that they seemed older than they should be for someone so young. “The past haunts you?,” he asked quietly. He didn’t know why he asked her that. Perhaps he wanted to know how others had healed from such a horrible time - something he had been unable to do. 

She blinked at him, slightly taken aback. “I...it haunts everyone,” she returned. “I can see it in your eyes too.” 

The night was taking a turn he had not foreseen but he did not pull back from this opened door. 

“Perhaps. How do you make peace with it?” he inquired, his eyes fervent. 

“I feel like I may hate my father.” The words spilled out before she realized it. “But you’re not supposed to hate your parents, are you?” she asked him, truly seeking an answer. 

“I’ve sought to punish him,” she continued, almost lost in thought. “Once I was older and learned of what he did. That he left us…” She glanced at him and swallowed before continuing. “...for her. And then the attack...I wanted him to feel as hurt as I did. As I still do.” 

He looked at her, his expression soft but intense at once. “After what you went through, that is understandable, Princess. I can imagine it would be difficult to forgive him," he added quietly. 

"Should I?" she wondered. 

"I don’t think I can't answer that.” 

She nodded slowly, her eyes tilting to the side, misty. "I don’t even call him ‘father’ now. It stings him every time and that makes me feel better but only in the moment. And then it all comes back and I hurt again.” She looked down, rubbing her hands together. 

“Why do that if it doesn’t make you feel better?” Benjen asked gently, moving to her slightly. 

She considered the question as she looked over to him. “I...I suppose it is the only way I’ve found to cope, besides burying myself in books and training. Those keep my body and mind occupied. And trying to make him feel my hurt is the only way I can think to find some peace.” She was looking out the window now, but a tear had escaped her eye. “But it does not work,” she whispered. 

Benjen nearly reached out to wipe the tears away from her cheek but restrained himself. Thankfully she swatted the tear away. “My mother says I need to express myself to him but that would require me talking to him. And I don't want to give him the satisfaction. So I'm at an impasse I suppose.” 

“Perhaps he should try harder and it should not be your burden to bear,” he countered softly. 

She straightened her shoulders, wiping residual wetness from her face and looked at him. “How did you feel when you found out your sister went with my father and wasn’t taken?” she inquired. “If I may ask,” she added quickly. 

He looked at her for a long time and as she looked into his eyes, it was as though a fierce storm had consumed his eyes.

“I knew,” he said quietly. His eyes looked like they may explode into pieces the way he seemed to be fighting back something inside him. “I knew he didn’t kidnap her, that she had gone with him willingly.” 

“Oh,” Rhaenys breathed. She didn’t know what to say. The air between them had already changed as they spoke - more charged. And a new shift had happened then with his words - she did not know if it was good or bad or something else entirely.

“I didn’t understand what she was doing, and once I did, I wish I could have stopped her. She told me she was going to tell our father, but…” He paused, closing his eyes as though someone was twisting a knife into his stomach. 

What was she supposed to feel hearing this? Should she despise him? Think ill of him? 

“Did you agree with what she did?” she asked tentatively. 

He looked at her, shocked. “Gods, no! I never…I told her she shouldn’t go, that it wasn’t right. But...they seemed to have rationalized it for themselves already. I wish I could have stopped her,” he said, his expression lost. 

“You were twelve. And they should not have run off together, it’s that simple. And my grandfather should not have killed your family.” 

“Brandon should not have gone to the capital, Ned always says that,” Benjen murmured. “Wolf blood.” 

“Wolf blood?” she asked.

“Aye, that’s what our father used to call it - a wildness, I suppose you could say. Lyanna had it and Brandon, moreso.” 

Rhaenys let out a deep breath. “My father knew how mad his own father was. From what I understand from my uncle and others, there were plans to even depose him - plans my father was part of. And he threw that into the ocean by running off with your sister. He knew better and didn’t care,” she whispered. 

“That is true. Lyanna was willful though. Did what she wanted. Oft that could be good,” he said quietly, a warm light coming back to his eyes before disappearing just as quickly. “But not always. I should have known,” he whispered, broken. “She told me she was going to tell our father, and I thought he would set her straight,” he said, almost childlike before a darkness shaded his eyes. “But she didn’t tell him. She lied to me,” he let out, the last words nearly broken. 

“So she betrayed you,” Rhaenys responded carefully. She knew that feeling of broken trust too. All too much. “It’s the worst kind of theft - when someone you love robs away the trust you gave them.”

His eyes met hers. It was odd to hear someone understand something he had not expressed before. “Aye,” he replied nearly breathless. “I never spoke to her again - and then, well, she passed with the babe.” He closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again. 

“But I should have known she would not tell father. I knew her best. I should have have told him. Perhaps if I had told him, he and Brandon would be alive and war could have been avoided; that the horrible things that happened to you wouldn’t have taken place.” He spoke quietly but his voice was so immersed in grief, she could feel herself drowning with him. 

It dawned on her then. “Do you truly blame yourself? For all that happened?” she asked incredulously. 

“I cannot absolve myself of not speaking up,” he answered. “There was a war built on a lie.” 

She studied his face, staring into his eyes intently. “Benjen, why did you join the Night’s Watch?” 

He leaned backwards away from her in a jolt. “I...the Night’s Watch is a noble calling, Starks have manned the Wall since it was built.” 

“I didn’t say it wasn’t noble and that didn’t answer my question,” she said warily. “What were your reasons for joining?” 

His jaw tensed. “I - I felt like I should. I needed to not be here, to...be somewhere else, be _ of _ something. I do not know how to explain it.” He closed his eyes, letting his head fall back. “To be away from the ghosts here and...to atone.” 

_ He's given up so much for what they did, _she realized, her blood simmering.

“And has it worked? Have you fled the ghosts in the lands beyond the Wall?” she asked. 

He opened his eyes and brought his head back. “I’m not sure yet,” he answered wearily. “Gods, I only meant to come here for a book and instead I’ve spilled my demons out. How did that happen?” he said laughing. She laughed too, looking back at him with curiosity. 

For a moment, they just stared at each other and it was as though time was at a pause for them. Gazing at her, Benjen felt like part of him had been taken somewhere deeper - warmer. 

But a small voice in the back of his head asked him if he should be sitting so close to the Princess - alone - late at night. 

He silenced the voice. Because listening to hers had felt so much better. 

Then a small rumble broke the silence that had filled the room. Rhaenys looked down and put a hand on her stomach, her eyes wide while she tried to suppress a laugh. “I forgot that I didn’t eat dinner, that was foolish.” 

Benjen laughed heartily. “You forgot but your stomach didn’t. Do you want something from the kitchen? It’s not far.” 

“I don’t want to trouble you, it’s so late,” she said in a rush. 

He gave her a crooked smile. “We’ve already been up awhile. Plus I don’t want to be the fault in your receipt of Northern hospitality.” 

She bit her lip, trying to restrain a grin. “Food would be nice.” She was about to rise when she remembered. “Oh! We did not find the book, should we stay to look?” 

He rose and extended his hand to her. “It’s alright, I’ll come back tomorrow.” 

A half-smile crossed her lips and she took his hand to get up from the bench together. Rhaenys steeled herself when Benjen opened the door and the cold air hit her suddenly. 

“Here, take my hand,” he told her, extending his palm to her once more. “The stairway can be tricky when you walk down.” She took it and they traced their way, puffs of breath and moisture sailing around them in the chilled air. Then they got to the walkway and made their way to the kitchen. 

She sighed in relief as they entered inside, the warmth a great relief after leaving nighttime cold. Benjen went to a storage box and pulled out some bread and cheese. He placed it on the table before looking around for a knife. He was about to move to grab one on the other side of the table when he noticed Rhaenys. At that moment, she was sitting atop a counter by the table and had taken her hair out of its braid, running her fingers through her hair, sighing. For some reason, he was transfixed, his breath still. 

She noticed he had stopped and was staring, and she blushed slightly. “I - I normally sleep with my hair out, and my head was starting to hurt with it being tied away for so long. It probably looks like a wild fright,” she murmured sheepishly. 

He coughed as he resumed his mission for the knife. He cut a few slices of cheese and bread and spread them out for them. She eagerly put together a few and sighed with content eating as Benjen cut up an apple for them too. 

“Thank you, this was kind of you,” she told him in between bites. 

“Surely some cheese and bread does not deserve much thanks,” he replied with a laugh. “Why did you miss dinner?” 

She wanted to tell him what she and Jon had argued about, but for some reason part of her did not want him to know about betrothals and matches - and that she could possibly be forced into one soon too. She briefly wondered if he’d ever had to deal with such talk before he joined the Watch - or if he had ever wanted to marry at all. But they’d had heavy enough discussion already, so she shook those thoughts away. “I just lost track of time and hadn’t had much of a chance to go to the library, that’s all,” she told him with a smile. 

They spoke for some time more, munching on apples, cheese and bread. Benjen told her about growing up in Winterfell, the people here that had taken care of his family, and Rhaenys responded with tales of Jon and Aegon in King’s Landing and the staff that put up with them. She asked him more about the wildlings and wondered what could happen on the journey that lay ahead of them. 

They finished the last pieces of apple and by then, they were on the cusp of it being early and not late and decided they should head back to their respective chambers. Benjen offered to escort her to hers first. When they got to her door, she paused with her hand at the knob and then turned around to face him, looking up into his eyes. 

She didn’t think it through but before she knew it, she had risen slightly on her toes and her arms were around his shoulders. It was a gentle embrace but felt weighted in the words they’d shared that night. “I enjoyed talking with you, Benjen," she whispered into his neck. A warm shiver traveled throughout his body, feeling her breath upon him. 

He pulled back, trying to hide his shock at the tenderness she had just shown him, but he could not disguise it. She seemed to realize and he could see an embarrassed look take over her face. “Well, good night then - or, I suppose, good morn nearly, to you,” she said quietly before moving to enter her chambers. 

“Sleep well, Rhaenys,” he returned. He paused and wondered if that was the first time he had addressed her by her name. He turned to start walking back to his room when he heard her door creak open before it had even shut fully. 

“Wait,” she called quietly. “You never told me earlier - what is your direwolf’s name?” 

He gazed at her before he answered. 

“Her name is Dawn. Seemed a fitting name for a wolf of the Watch.” He gave her a nod before exiting through the corridor to his room. 

When he got to his chambers and closed the door, he leaned his body against it as his head knocked against the weathered wood. 

_ What just happened? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think! That was way longer than previous chapters, but it was an important moment for these two! Hope it didn't lag...as always, comments - and kudos! - appreciated :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't mean to go so long without an update! Not sure it is what I wanted exactly but....here you go

* * *

As they broke their fast that morning, Jon’s eyes kept drifting towards the doors. After they were finished, the plan was to set out for a hunt with both his uncles. A feast was scheduled for before they left Winterfell, so meat was needed. Plus they were aiming to get some that could be preserved and brought to the Night’s Watch as well. 

“Jon, are you well?” Robb asked. “You normally eat your meal in one go - you’re barely done.” 

Jon looked down at his plate and realized his cousin was right. “Right, sorry. I think I’m still a bit asleep is all.” He began to eat quickly then but his eyes continued to look at the door. He was waiting for Rhaenys to enter as she’d yet to join them. And she hadn’t come to dinner last night either. Once he was done, he excused himself so he could go check on her. Walking through Winterfell, feeling the warmth inside amongst the grey stones and then the cold wind along the ramparts, he realized how odd it felt somehow to have Rhaenys here. But odd wasn’t bad - quite the opposite. It was wonderful - like two parts of himself were finally starting to meld. 

He got to her room and paused for a moment, his hand hanging in the air before his knuckles rapped on the door. 

“Rhae? Are you awake?” Jon asked softly. There was no response. He waited a moment and then knocked again - still nothing. He waited yet another moment and now he could not wait any longer. 

He opened the door quickly and found Rhaenys sleeping soundly in her room. Rather, she _ was _ sleeping soundly until she startled awake as soon as Jon burst in. 

“Gods!” she groaned, pushing herself up slowly, her hair unbound and a tangled mess. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?” 

He let out a sigh of relief - and exasperation. “Rhae, we’re already done eating. How are you still sleeping?” 

She squinted at him, struggling to open her eyes as she was still dazed from the heavy fog of sleep. “I stayed up…,” she began with a yawn. She nearly finished her sentence, telling Jon she had stayed up speaking with his uncle until the wee hours of the night into the morning. But something in her made her hold back the truth. She could see how under normal circumstances it might be slightly scandalous. But surely it could not be so with someone from his family, as well as a brother of the Watch? Even then, she somehow found herself reluctant to offer up that information. 

She stammered for the right words and then just sputtered something out. “I stayed up late in the library looking for books, you know how I get when it comes to books,” she told him shrugging her shoulders. It wasn’t a lie afterall. 

He walked over to her now and took a seat on the bed. He didn’t seem to believe her, and she could see it in his eyes which had become filled with concern. She knew why too. 

“I didn’t have any nightmares, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she told him quietly, not meeting his eyes and rubbing the side of her head. She hated that he not only knew about her nightmares but had seen her in the throws of them a few times when she would not - _ could not _\- wake. “I haven’t had one in a long time, I promise.” 

He stared at her steadily, studying her as if he were trying to suss out if she were telling the truth or simply trying to mollify him. “Alright, well...don’t you want to eat something? You must be starving, you didn’t come to dinner last night either,” he told her gently. 

She smiled and placed her hand on top of his. “I’m fine, I promise. I’ll eat something soon.” 

He returned her smile with a bit of relief. “Well, I guess I’ll see you when we return then. But you need to eat, do you hear?” he said sternly, nearly reminding her of their mother. 

“Yes, yes! I promise! Gods, you can be as stern as a septa, you know? Or mother...” 

“I’m telling her you compared her to a septa,” he remarked with a smirk. He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and then got up to leave her to rest.

Jon was about to walk out when Rhaenys called out to him. 

“Who is going on the hunt?” she asked, slightly hesitant. 

He turned to gaze at her curiously, assuming she already knew. “Myself, Robb, Theon, Jory, both my uncles and a few of the guards,” he told her. “You can come too if you want,” he added. 

She nearly looked like she was contemplating joining before she replied. “No, I...I’ll stay here, rest some more.” 

“And…?” he asked.

“And I will eat! Gods!” she groaned, laughing. 

“I’ll see you when we’re back,” he told her with a smile before leaving. 

Rhaenys laid back down then, closing her eyes with a sigh, her mind unconsciously taking her back to the smell of old books, oil lanterns and something else she could not quite place. 

* * *

"Your sister didn’t want to join, Jon?" Theon asked as they rode through the wolfswood. Theon, Jon and Robb had had ridden slightly ahead of Jon’s uncles and the others and had now slowed their pace to wait for them in the thick, dark forest. 

"Rhaenys was tired, didn’t sleep enough or something I suppose," Jon murmured in reply. He’d worried that his sister may have had nightmares like she sometimes did, but she’d assured him she simply needed to rest. 

"I wouldn’t mind being the reason for her sleepless nights," Theon replied with a smirk. 

"Gods, Theon!" Robb groaned.

"That was too easy a jape even for you, Theon," Jon said flatly. “But watch how you talk about my sister.” 

"Easy there! I'm not going to try anything. Wouldn't want to move in on Robb here. I'll be surprised if he doesn't propose to her before you all leave," he said.

Robb rolled his eyes in response. "He doesn't know what he's talking about, Jon," he told his cousin almost apologetically. Jon gave him an understanding smile. But he didn’t need to be sorry. Jon _ wanted _ Robb to fancy Rhaenys - though his cousin hadn’t _ actually _ said he did. How could Robb not be interested? _ Rhaenys is strong and beautiful and kind, surely Robb sees that? _ , Jon thought in confusion. Bu _ t _ his sister didn’t seem to want to push it, so he wasn’t sure what to do now. 

"Oh come off it, anyone with eyes can see the way you look at her, Robb. Not that I blame you," Theon said with a laugh.

"Boys," a voice came from behind them. Lord Stark, Benjen and Jory Cassell had ridden up from behind and none of them looked pleased. 

"Robb, Theon - if you’re done gossiping, perhaps you can go up ahead to scout, but not too far,” Ned told them. “Let’s hope your chattering hasn’t scared off the animals. Jon’s punishment will be to stay back with us old folk." Robb and Theon smiled slightly nervously before muttering apologies and riding off. 

"Sorry, lad," Ned told Jon as they continued on. “Hope you don’t mind spending some time with your uncles.” 

“No, this is nice,” he said with a smile. Then he found himself wondering how much his uncle had heard and thought back on his conversation with Rhaenys. 

"Uncle, would you ever consider a match between Robb and Rhaenys?" Jon asked. 

Ned balked a bit, not sure what to say at first. “Well, I would consider it, of course. But I had thought to have Robb marry someone of the North, one of our bannermen’s daughters.” 

Jon let out a groan as he laughed, which led to a slightly confused expression on his uncle’s face. "Rhaenys said the same thing,” Jon explained. “She said Robb likely needed a northern match because it would be more pleasing to the other houses."

Ned laughed then, a bit surprised. “She’s got the right of it. You talked to her about it I take it?”

“More like I, um, suggested the match to her,” Jon answered.

His uncle gave him an amused look. “You’re playing matchmaker, are you?” 

Jon looked sheepish then. “I just - I can tell Robb likes her is all - or I _ think _ he does,” he said, squirming in his saddle a bit. “And I want her to be with someone good, someone I could trust to treat her right. Who could be better than Robb?” he asked earnestly. 

“I won’t disagree with you there, nephew,” Ned replied warmly. 

“And It’d be nice to have both parts of my family...together. It would feel good, that’s all,” he said in a rush. 

Ned looked at him with sympathy and remorse. “Aye, that makes sense, Jon. I wouldn’t be opposed if they both truly wanted it. I dare say Cat would be over the moon at the idea of the Princess as our good-daughter. Do you think your sister would want this match?”

Jon worried his lower lip at the question. “I don’t know, she doesn’t like to talk about these...things with me.” Then he chuckled to himself. “Last year, she burst into a meeting of the small council yelling and threatening to fly to Asshai on her dragon because she found out they’d been discussing marriages for her but didn’t tell her. It hasn’t come up since.” 

They both laughed and it was then that Jon noticed Benjen hadn’t said much but looked deep in thought - and exhausted. 

“Are you well, Uncle Benjen? You look tired,” Jon asked his uncle with a bit of concern, noticing dark circles under his eyes. 

“I'm fine, just didn’t get enough sleep last night is all,” he said with a weary half smile. Jon paused on that but not for long, turning his attention to scan the woods for boar and stag. 

* * *

Rhaenys got to the door and gave a hesitant knock before the voice on the side bade her to enter.

She opened the door, peeking her head in. “Lady Stark? I hope I’m not interrupting you?” 

Catelyn got up quickly, placing the cloth and needles she had been working with on the table next to her. 

“Princess, of course not, come in,” she said warmly, motioning for her to take a seat by her. “Shall I call for tea? Food?” 

“No, no! That isn’t necessary,” she said taking a seat. “I actually wanted to give you something.” Rhaenys pulled out a wooden box carved with depictions of orchards and flowers. “Jon mentioned that you have a garden here where even southern fruits and flowers can survive in the winter?” 

An easy smile took over Catelyn’s lips then. “Ah yes, the glass garden, it’s been a blessing since I first moved here,” she replied. 

“Well, these are seeds for a few different fruits and herbs from Dorne,” she said opening the box. It was filled with bags of seeds, all labelled. “My mother and I thought you might enjoy a few more tastes of the South - for when you don’t have time to visit,” she said, hoping she wasn’t presuming too much. 

Lady Stark took the box and gingerly traced a finger over the bags of seeds. “I always did love the fruits of the south, especially the citrus ones. I suppose that’s where Sansa gets its from.” Her eyes seemed to water slightly. “Princess, this is very thoughtful. Please thank the Queen for me as well. We can plant them before you leave, together,” she said, taking her hand. 

Rhaenys smiled widely. “I would love that.“ Then she realized there was something else she had come to tell her gracious hostess and her smile faltered. 

“Lady Stark, there is something else I feel I must tell you,” she said nervously. “I - I should have asked you first and then I forgot, which I know is not a good excuse, but I…” she started to ramble. 

Lady Stark looked at her with curiosity and gave her hand a soft pull. “I’m sure it’s not so bad, whatever it is.” 

_ Oh, you will think differently once I tell you, _ Rhaenys thought. “Well, I - I have given Arya few lessons on how to use a spear.” She cringed, waiting for a rebuke from the Lady of Winterfell. _ Perhaps I can blame it on having two brothers and no sisters. That makes sense surely. _

Lady Stark looked startled for a moment before she laughed. “If it wasn’t you, it would be Robb showing her how to wield a sword. In fact, I’m fairly sure he already has.”

Rhaenys let out a breath. “You’re - you’re not angry? I truly am very sorry, I should not have started without speaking to you first. It’s just that I told her yes first and then realized after I should have asked and then I did not want to disappoint her…” 

Catelyn smiled at her. “Perhaps it would have been better if you had asked Lord Stark or I first, yes. But,” she paused in thought, “I suppose that’s explains things. She’s been easier since you two arrived. Even her septa says she’s been calmer. Perhaps now she’s simply too tired to put up an argument,” she said with a small laugh. “And perhaps it’s the fact she has a balance of what she wants and what we want…” she pondered. 

“I’m glad to hear that,” she told her with a relieved smile.

“And I’d rather Arya feel...,” the Lady of Winterfell paused for a moment before continuing. “Like she can talk to me, to us...rather than hide things.” Rhaenys nodded solemnly in agreement. 

“How did The Queen react to you learning how to fight, if I may ask? I know it is more common in Dorne, of course.” 

Rhaenys winced slightly. “Well...” she started slowly. Lady Stark watched her slightly confused. “I assume you know what happened during the sack of King’s Landing, my lady?” 

Lady Stark blanched, taking in a deep breath. “Of course. Tywin Lannister was a monster. No matter the feelings of the North towards your father then, no one here wanted to see children hurt.” 

The Princess gave her a weary smile. “Thank you, my lady. I mention it because that is why I learned to fight. I - my Uncle Oberyn perhaps more so - wanted to make sure I could defend myself if ever need be.” Lady Stark gazed at her with kindness though her face had tensed with an expression of concern as well.. 

“I can understand that. If anyone tried to harm my children, I can’t say I wouldn’t want them to be able to defend themselves if Ned or I were not there.” She looked out the window for a moment, her eyes more steely. “You know, since the war, I’ve always worried that our family could be targeted by others because of everything wrought from the…’misunderstanding;‘ northerners upset about losing their own family because of Ned’s sister.” Rhaenys understood perfectly well what she was trying to say and it made sense. Catelyn continued. “I worried they could do something to the children,” she said quietly. “Sometimes I still do.” Rhaenys found herself chilled to the bone at those words. It was then that Lady Stark shook her head slightly and looked to the Princess, gripping her hand. “I do not mind if you teach, Arya.” 

Rhaenys shoulders sagged in relief. 

“Now, why don’t I show you the glass garden? We can decide where the best place is to plant these,” she said with a smile. 

* * *

“I shall never get over how warm it is inside the castle,” Rhaenys exclaimed as she walked around the garden, trying to understand how it could be this balmy anywhere in the North. 

She heard Lady Catelyn laugh, seated on a stone bench. She was surveying an area she thought might work for the new offerings. 

“I was surprised too, when I first came here,” she said. She got up, clapping her hands together to dust off the soil. “But it’s been a small reprieve when I need it, much like the Sept.” She looked down at the area she had been seated by. “I think will be a good area, but I shall consult with Maester Luwin when he is available. I want to make sure they grow strong.” 

“I am pleased you like them, my lady. My mother will be too,” Rhaenys told her, turning and walking down an aisle of plants that was close to the door. “I do not want to keep you, if you need to tend to other things. I would not mind staying here a bit longer, if that is alright?” 

“Of course. Do you know your way back to the Keep from here?” she asked. 

Just then the door to the garden swung open and Arya burst through, running into the garden. Rhaenys startled as Arya whizzed by her. The skinny young Stark stopped in her tracks, turned around to look at Rhaenys and ran back to give her a quick hug. Then she turned right back around and kept running through the garden. She was then followed by Nymeria first, then Benjen a moment later. As he walked in, he nearly bumped into Rhaenys. He stepped back in surprise, likely not expecting to find her or Lady Stark here, before turning to his goodsister. 

“Cat, I’m sorry, didn’t mean to intrude.” He looked to Rhaenys and bowed slightly, a smile that could nearly be described as shy present on his lips. “Princess, apologies.” 

She let out a breath of exasperation even as a slight flush took over her cheeks. She felt slightly awkward for some reason after spending so much time together during the night - and yet she was excited to see him too. “I thought we had established that you would call me Rhaenys if you insist on me calling you Benjen - Benjen,” she told him as she walked towards the section that contained flowers, looking over her shoulder at him. 

Lady Stark laughed at Rhaenys’s remark as she turned to her goodbrother. “Ben, I need to go speak with Gage about the feast. Can you or Arya show the Princess the way out when you leave?” 

“Yes!” Arya shouted from across the garden, seemingly buried in a patch of flowers. Catelyn rolled her eyes at her daughter but shook her head with a smile as she said goodbye to the Princess and Benjen. 

Rhaenys sat down on a bench near a patch of dark red flowers. She had never seen them before, and they reminded her of the leaves of a weirwood tree like the one in the Godswood that Jon had shown her. It was then that Arya ran over to Benjen with a grin on her face before she handed him a hastily constructed bouquet. She looked up at him, her eyes big, waiting. 

He looked at her so warmly, Rhaenys could feel her heart swell at the sight. “These are beautiful, little wolf.” She jumped up at him as he caught her quickly, and she threw her arms around his neck, humming. She pulled back to look at him and her face was serious now. “You promise you’ll teach me how you fight wildlings?” 

He glanced over at Rhaenys, who had an amused look on her face. “You promised! You owe me since I didn’t get to come on the hunt!” Arya told him indignantly. 

“You’ve got me, you’ve got me! I promise you. How could I refuse after you gave me your favor?” he told her before putting her down on the ground and ruffling her already wild hair. She yipped in excitement before running to look at the flowers by Rhaenys. 

“How was the hunt, Benjen?” the Princess asked him, watching as Arya poked around the flower bush, Nymeria inspecting them as well. 

He began to walk through the garden slowly. “The hunt was good. We got some meat for the feast and a good amount that we can preserve to take to the Watch. The men will appreciate it.” 

She gave him a small smile. “I’m glad to hear that, it’s good of you to ensure that for them while you are visiting here.” 

“It is the least I can do while I enjoy the comforts of home, and they do their duty there,” he replied. He started to laugh to himself and she gave him a curious look. “Though it’s a wonder we caught anything at all. Those boys are like clucking hens the way they gossip, thought they were going to scare away all the animals.”

She looked at him slightly confused before Arya jumped in. “I heard the boys talking when they came back. Theon was teasing Robb about you and Jon was annoyed!” She was very proud of her spy work. She picked a red flower and gave it to Rhaenys, grinning. “Theon said Robb likes you,” Arya whispered in a conspiratorial tone, before running out of the garden as Nymeria followed at her heels. 

Rhaenys watched them go, slightly speechless. She shook her head with a laugh before looking down at the flower Arya had given her. It was not long before her eyes turned to Benjen. 

She tried to distract herself by looking back at the flower Arya had handed to her, but it did not work. She had found her thoughts drifting to Benjen throughout the day, and it made her feel odd around him now. She had never opened up to someone other than her brothers or mother like that. And when he seemed to do the same, it was wonderful and terrifying all at once. And that feeling was compounded by the fact that she found herself wanting to stare at his face for as long as possible. 

Benjen looked over to her, watching as she gently fingered the petals of the red flower. When he first met her, he could see that she was beautiful, but that would be plain enough even to a blind man. But he had started to see her differently over the past few days, especially after their time speaking through the night. He never thought it could ease him so to speak with someone about the past. And yet with her, it felt like he was letting out a deep breath and his tensions flew away.

During the hunt, he’d found himself distracted, wondering if he’d been improper staying with her so late - and alone. But then he thought that perhaps it was good if Jon’s Northern family had a connection to his Southern. Perhaps that was the bridge to true peace? 

Today the sun was shining brightly and piercing the glass panes. It was a gift for the plants and flowers but seemed meant for her. Her face seemed to shine brighter when the sun fell on it. _ I suppose it is drawn to her, she is a Martell. _

He was shaken from his thoughts by Rhaenys’s voice. 

“Did you get much rest at all?” she had asked.

He let out a laugh. “A bit. And you?” 

“A bit,” she answered with a laugh of her own. “I’m sorry for keeping you awake so late, you must have been tired during the hunt?” 

“There is no need to apologize. After all, you were not the only one speaking,” he told her warmly. 

She bit her lip, hiding the fullness of a smile that wanted to emerge. “I suppose that is true. You...you are easy to talk with.” 

“As are you,” he replied. 

Rhaenys smiled and looked away. She felt like she needed to ease a patch of nerves she could feel bubbling in her. She turned the flower in her hand nervously, bringing it to her face. She closed her eyes while she inhaled deeply. 

"Hmm, it smells fresh but also...woodsy," she said, trying to find the right words. 

"Woodsy?" he asked with a laugh as he walked over to where she was and took a seat next to her. 

"I don't know how else to describe it! Here," Rhaenys told him, gesturing for him to take the flower. “Tell me what it smells like then.” His hand gently clasped around hers as she moved the flower to his face. Somehow the touch of his fingers on her hand sent shivers throughout her body. She loved the way the red flower contrasted against his dark hair and pale skin. 

He took in the scent as their eyes met. “Woodsy, it is,” he replied, causing her to laugh and then closed his eyes to smell it once more. “Though sweet as well,” he added quietly. Benjen looked up from the flower to her then. “If you like that flower so much, I could let Robb know.” Immediately he wondered why he had said that. 

Rhaenys’s eyes went wide. “No, please don’t!” she told him quickly, earning a slightly shocked expression from him. “I mean, I would not want him to think…” She took a deep breath as her shoulders seemed to tighten at her neck. “I do like the flower but...please don’t tell him that.” 

He felt an odd relief - _why?_ \- as he began to understand what she meant. “I see, well,” he said slowly as he scratched his beard in thought and looked back to the sea of red flora by them. “Do you know this flower?” he asked her.

“No, I’ve never seen it before. It’s quite beautiful,” she breathed as she admired the small field of dark red before them. 

“It’s from the Riverlands,” he told her. “Cat had it planted here a few years after she came. Wanted a piece of home, I suppose.” He moved to touch one of the flowers. “I’ve heard they can sometimes be found around the Neck and near Moat Cailin, too.” 

She looked over to him. “You have a glass garden at the Wall, do you not?” 

He hummed a yes. “Do you have anything there to remind you of home?” she continued.

He looked at her, slightly astonished. When the glass garden was built at the Watch with the assistance of the Crown, he found himself wanting to try to grow winter roses there - a reminder of home but also to be a reminder of what drove him to take the black. “It’s...the garden there isn’t for frivolities, it’s there for food and healing only.” 

She scoffed. “Surely you have spent enough time with Maester Aemon to not believe that flowers are only around to please our eyes? Flowers can have medicinal properties as well.” She turned back to the blood red flowers, feeling another one carefully. “They can heal us when we need it.” 

His eyes moved to her hand as it traced gingerly over blood red petals. “Is that what they mean to you?” he inquired as his eyes moved back to her.

“They don’t have to fulfill one purpose - they can heal while also provide beauty. I wouldn’t define them by one thing alone or say it can only be one thing and not the other. I am not a man,” she mumbled the last part but he heard it nonetheless. Now he felt like they weren’t talking about flowers. 

She got up then and turned to him. “In any case, this garden is wonderful. Was it here when you were a child?” she asked him, moving to walk around. 

He rose too and they began to walk slowly through the aisles of flowers and plants. “Aye. Though truth be told, I’m not sure when it was built. I’m sure Maester Luwin knows.” 

She nodded in agreement before her mind drifted back to his mention of Robb. “Benjen, before...the war, before everything...” She paused, finding herself a bit nervous trying to phrase what she wanted to ask. “What do you think you would have done if you had not joined the Night’s Watch?” Perhaps it was a bit intimate, but after last night, she felt compelled to push further. 

He slowed his pace and looked at her. “I was so young...I hadn’t thought about it before the war,” he answered hesitantly. He turned back to look at the path ahead of them as they continued moving through the flowers. “Sometimes I wonder what my father had planned for me,” he continued. Because he knew well enough that his father must have had plans. “He had tied Brandon and Lyanna to the South - Ned too, though through fostering.” He had loved his father, but now, Benjen felt like his father had treated his siblings like pawns. Surely he would not have been any different once he was older. “Perhaps he meant for Ned and I to make Northern matches. I suppose we’ll never know.” 

They had turned a corner in the aisles of the garden then and sandwiched in between the bushes of flowers was a small area containing citrus fruits. Rhaenys’s breath quickened in excitement, eyeing the beauties of the south. 

She stepped to a tree of oranges, plucking one fruit from a branch to peel away its skin. She stripped the fruit so quickly, Benjen wondered if it had happened at all. As she picked the fleshy pieces apart and bit into a small slice, her eyes closed in pure joy. For some reason he could not discern, Benjen felt like he should avert his eyes. 

She opened her eyes then and as she looked at him, he saw a brief flash of embarrassment take over her. “I just did not expect to have an orange here in the North, I must seem ridiculous,” she told him shyly. 

He laughed at her. “I can imagine. I hope it did not disappoint.” 

“No, it is quite sweet,” she replied with a small smile as she offered him a slice. He took the piece of orange flesh from her, his eyes unable to ignore the juice along her fingers. 

The fruit tasted like bliss. 

They continued to walk. As they did so, Rhaenys’s mind drifted back to their conversation the night before and something came back to her. 

“You did not answer my question last night - if...if you had found solace in the Watch? Fled the ghosts here?” she asked hesitantly though earnestly.

“I don’t know,” he answered quietly. “Fled...yes. Forgotten? No. I suppose my attempts to heal are somewhat like yours, when it comes to training and fighting that is. Reading books was never my favorite pastime though,” he laughed. 

Rhaenys replied with a smile as she gazed at him. Then a question began to push at her lips. the words demanding to escape - even though she knew she shouldn’t ask. “Do you ever regret it? Taking the Black?” 

He did not look at her but kept his eyes staring straight ahead of them. Some moments passed before he answered. “Sometimes, yes.” 

Something clenched inside her and she did not reply but instead looked ahead as well. She realized they now needed some cheer in their discussion. Then her eyes landed on the colorful bouquet in his hand. “She’s fond of flowers, yes?” Rhaenys asked, warmth and fondness laced through her words. 

He looked at her then and his eyes followed hers, his face softening as his gaze fell upon the bouquet as well. “That she is,” he remarked, stopping as they came across a bush of blue flowers. 

“You know, everyone says that Arya is like Lyanna,” he said softly. Even though they had opened up to the other the night before, she was still slightly shocked that he had brought her up again. 

“She told me,” Rhaenys replied. “Or rather, she said that people tell her she looks like her aunt. Is is true?” 

He sighed, a sad smile crossing his lips. “It’s true. Though part of that is simply that she looks like Ned I think. Arya does have quite a bit of wolf blood, there’s no doubt - but she is not like Lyanna. That I know,” he told her, looking at her as he did so. “Wildness takes many forms. People saw Lyanna’s ability on a horse and desire to fight as pure wildness. But they didn’t see how she liked her songs too. Those songs - false songs - of great love you spoke of before; that capture some minds too easily.” His expression was tight then. before a fond look to over his face. “That’s not our Arya, I know it in my bones. Her wildness is different - she is a tougher soul,” he whispered like a prayer. “It’s like you said about flowers - they are not simply one thing.”

“Nothing is just what we see, I suppose,” she remarked. She tilted her head to the side and smiled at him slightly. “Well, I don’t think you came here to have a philosophical discussion about flowers, did you?” 

“No, that is true, I’ll leave that for you and Maester Aemon,” he said, laughing softly. “In addition to Arya’s favor, I came to grab a few herbs we use on the meats when we preserve them and…just visit the garden, I suppose.” 

He lowered his hand to the blue flowers before them, his fingers grazing over the petal. Rhaenys examined the flowers as her eyes drifted to the stems below. She could see that these flowers possessed thorns, though they were nearly hidden by the startling blue color of the petals. Their presence was confirmed when Benjen winced, drawing his hand back. 

She moved a few steps closer to him then, the gap between them much smaller now. “Are you alright?” she asked. 

He nodded with a small laugh, saying it was nothing but a scratch, and then brought his finger to his lips, sucking away the blood. Rhaenys watched him for a moment before slowly moving to take hold of his hand. When she touched his palm, his eyes caught hers and silently questioned what she was doing. Then she brought his hand down and looked at his finger.

“It’s deeper than I would have thought,” she murmured as she inspected the cut. “You should not do that, put your lips to the open wound, even small ones.” 

“Oh?” he asked, gazing at her. 

Then her eyes rose to look up at him. “It-it’s best to wash it with water, water and soap will clean it better,” she answered quietly, stammering slightly as she swallowed nerves she found rising as he looked at her intently. 

“I’ll try to remember that, Princess,” Benjen told her, his voice low and quivering slightly as she continued to hold his hand. 

Something had shifted and Rhaenys did not know what. Her cheeks were now flushed, perhaps from the warmth of the gardens - it had created a beautiful rosy shine on her olive skin. 

As they gazed at each other, her eyes drifted to his lips. They were tinged red with the blood he’d tried to wipe away, though the process had left a stain. Along with his dark beard, the red color made his skin seem paler by contrast. She found herself fighting the urge to bring her other hand to touch the redness on his mouth. 

Her gaze shifted back up to his eyes. “What do you seek from flowers, Benjen?” Rhaenys found herself asking in a whisper, still holding his hand.

His eyes did as hers had done, moving to her lips - and then rising back to her indigo orbs to answer her. 

“Healing, Princess. Healing.” 


	10. Chapter 10

_King's Landing_

Aegon listened attentively, despite how boring Lord Tyrell was, droning on about his betrothal to Margaery. He was happy - excited even - to wed her, but less enthused about his future good-father. Ostensibly the warden of the Reach was in his father's study to discuss food production with the King and Hand, but inevitably the portly man always managed to turn the discussion towards his daughter becoming the future queen.

So Aegon let his attention drift towards his sister's old cat, Balerion, who had taken to following him around since Rhaenys left. He found the elderly feline thoroughly amusing - he made no bones about who he wanted to be around and who he did not.

Perhaps not surprisingly, the cat did not like the King. He was currently prowling around the room, eyeing the King, Jon Arryn and Lord Tyrell warily.

Aegon's betrothal had been set before he even knew what the word meant. The Tyrells were rewarded for their loyalty during the rebellion with a rose as the future queen. Another price paid for his father's actions, though at least this was a cost the prince was happy to pay.

Suddenly Aegon's ears perked up when Rhaenys and Jon were brought up.

"Your Grace, how fare the prince and princess on their visit North?"

His father seemed to awaken more then as well. "They seem to be enjoying themselves at Winterfell according to their last letter. They should be leaving soon for the Wall, I believe."

"Still seems odd to devote so much of your son's time to that purgatory of the North," he mumbled in reply.

Rhaegar ignored the slight for the moment, focusing on the rest of his statement instead. "And the Princess. Rhaenys will be traveling there as well."

Lord Tyrell's eyebrows shot up. "Are you not worried about her safety in the North, Your Grace?

A flash of fire crossed Rhaegar's eyes. "Jaeherys has visited many times before and nothing has happened, why would I worry for Rhaenys?"

"I was simply curious, that is all. Your daughter has never been, that was all that I meant."

Aegon marveled at the fact that he seemed unaware of the how sensitive the King was about Rhaenys. Rhaegar's face tightened at the implication of Tyrell's words. "The North has not risen up since the end of the war, I do not think they would choose now to act out," he let out with ice, but it was then that Aegon noticed the shift in his father's eyes. He saw doubt.

"Well, I am sure it will be an adventure for them!" Lord Tyrell said in a rush, trying to erase the tension he had created. "I assume they shall return for the betrothal celebration?"

Aegon chimed in then. "They will be back in time, believe me."

Lord Tyrell acknowledged him with a bow of his head. "With the Crown Prince's betrothal set to my lovely rose, have you begun consideration of betrothals for your other children, Your Grace?"

Jon Arryn let out a weary groan. "Mace, gods, let it be."

"I was only asking, Lord Hand, that is all! Just simple curiosity."

The Hand got up from his seat then. "Come, Mace, I think it is time we find some lunch," he said with a sigh. Lord Tyrell rose too, bowing before the King and Aegon with effusive courtesies before the two men left.

Aegon let out a huff after the door was closed. Balerion jumped up then, curling onto his lap and began to purr when Aegon began to pet him idly. "Does he really think you would wed Rhaenys to Willas? When his daughter will already be Queen, he wants a Princess as well?"

Rhaegar closed his eyes, taking a sip of wine. "He believes they deserve more for their support during the war, including a betrothal between your sister and Willas. Rhaenys is old enough as it is, we will have to find a suitable match soon."

Aegon rolled his eyes, not wanting to engage in this discussion. "I think Mace Tyrell would believe I was a unicorn if it suited his interests somehow." Then his thoughts turned back to what the fat flower had said. "Father, you don't think someone would act against Jon and Rhaenys?"

"I...no, surely not. Besides, they are well guarded," he said confidently but he could see that Tyrell had somehow managed to plant a seed of doubt.

Aegon peered at his father with curiosity. "Did you even think of saying no to Rhaenys when she proposed going to the Wall?"

Rhaegar looked out the window, not meeting his son's gaze. After a few moments, he finally replied. "It is what she wanted."

"It won't soften her towards you, if that is what you think," Aegon told him quietly.

Rhaegar turned to look at him then. "I…" Then his gaze shifted down. "No, I'm sure it won't. But if I refused her, it would make things worse. So at the very least, this maintains the status quo," he said with a sigh. "And I trust that she takes the importance of the Night's Watch - and what could lie beyond the Wall - seriously."

Aegon nodded but realized he could end up in a discussion about prophecies and had no desire to engage in that. He rose from his chair, picking up Balerion and gently placing him on the ground with a soft pat to his head. "I should go, I want to see Abrax. He's been lonely without the others here." Then he laughed to himself, thinking of the dragon. "Or perhaps he is picking up on me missing Rhaenys and Jon."

His father gave him a small smile. "Of course, I'll join you soon if you don't mind." Aegon nodded and began walking to the door. Balerion sat for a moment and stared at the King, a low growl emitting from his old frame, before he moved to follow Aegon out.

"Son," Rhaegar called to him before he opened the door. Aegon turned around. "What...what would soften her towards me?" His voice sounded like he was lost.

Aegon regarded his father before he answered. "Only she could tell you that."

* * *

As Aegon walked outside into the sun, he found his mother entering the gardens from the other side. "Mother," he greeted her with a smile. "Where are you coming from?"

"There is a delegation from Volantis here to discuss a new trade agreement, I was just greeting them and making sure they have what they need. We'll begin discussions tomorrow - and you will be joining," she informed him with a smile.

Aegon groaned. "First I am subjected to a meeting with Mace Tyrell. Now you want me to discuss a trade agreement," he said in mock protest. "Do you even love me?" he asked, batting his eyes at her.

She swatted him lightly on the head, laughing. "It is not that exciting on the surface, but it's important. Having allies, even across the sea, is always positive."

"I know, I know. I just hoped to delay this until I am actually King," he replied with a small smile.

"Come," she said, linking her arm in his. "Let's walk to the jasmine plants by the water, it's too lovely a day to waste." As they walked along the path, Ser Arthur and Ser Jonothor behind them, she smoothed his hair looking upon him fondly. "So, what was Lord Tyrell on about today?"

Aegon let out a sound of exhausted annoyance. "The usual - his 'rose,' the betrothal." Then he squirmed a bit thinking on the conversation. "Then he asked about Jon and Rhaenys, their trip North and…" He wondered if he should bring up the rest of the conversation and then decided against it. "And why they are going to the Wall, that's all."

"The only reason he even remembers what the Wall is because of your father's obsession, I'm sure," she said dryly.

Aegon nodded in agreement. "Well, they should be leaving for the Wall soon. I'll never understand Rhaenys's fascination with it. I can understand wanting to know Uncle Aemon of course. I've enjoyed our occasional correspondence too. But the rest…" he trailed off, thinking back to his previous meeting. "Father still believes in it."

Elia nodded slowly. "He has to."

Aegon looked at her puzzled. "What do you mean?"

A slight haze seemed to take over her eyes then. "If the prophecy is not true, then what was it all for? His actions become even worse, you see," she explained quietly.

They reached the jasmine flowers then. His mother loved this part of the gardens. Elia had planted the flowers herself years ago, picking this spot because of its seclusion and view of the sea. Aegon looked out to the waters, falling deeper into thought. "Why do you think Rhaenys does as well? I...it seems incongruous to her relationship with father."

"Hers are nearly the same, my love," she said, turning to him and brushing a few stray silver strands of hair from his face. "I believe she has to just...to cope, to hold onto something. Perhaps then she can believe your father did not simply abandon us to so much danger," she said with a deep sigh, closing her eyes. "But the reasons do not change the outcome in the end, and your sister was forever changed." _We all were, _she said to herself.

"Well," he exhaled. "I'm glad they're going to the Wall soon. It means they are closer to leaving that land of ice and returning to us," he said. "Finally!" he added with exasperation.

"Yes, I wonder what tales they will have for us. Perhaps one of them shall fall in love with a brash wildling," Elia said dramatically.

Aegon snorted a laugh. "Gods, that would be splendid just to see father's reaction."

"He would surely think it was part of the prophecy," she added dryly. Aegon loved his mother's wit and humor, she never failed to draw a smile and laugh out of him. It was then that he felt a breeze against them and spotted Abrax flying near them. A soft caw rippled from the dragon, creating a song with the wind.

"Right, that's me then, I can tell he wants my attention," he told his mother with a kiss to her a cheek. "Something has been amiss with him the past few days."

She looked at him with slight concern as he left. "Alright, but be careful!" she called to him as he began to walk away.

He turned to face her, walking backwards with a large grin on his face. "Aren't I always?" he teased before turning to leave with Ser Arthur.

She let out an exasperated sigh and laughed. He was always careful, her sweet son. Dependable, calm - so much like Doran. She knew he wanted to be better than his predecessors. He even took the news of being locked into a betrothal to pay for his father's actions well. She was glad that Aegon had taken to Margaery, though still resented that it fell to him to make up for Rhaegar's mistakes.

So many years later, sometimes she could pretend it did not happen. But then eventually it rippled into the present in one way or another, the past making its presence known. Aegon's betrothal often felt like a reminder. And Rhaenys - _Rhaenys_. Elia hadn't wanted to deprive her of the chance to travel to the North and so she didn't object - she was so eager to go after all. And gods, would Elia do anything to see her daughter happy. But now she was starting to feel her absence keenly and bits of worry had started to creep upon her. _Would Northerners be kind to a Targaryen princess? What will happen at the Wall? Will she see wildlings?_

"What are you thinking about?" a voice asked from behind her. Elia turned to smile at Jaime as Ser Jonothor departed with a bow, before her eyes fell back upon the sea.

"Many things, good knight, many things." The waves had created a light roar in the air as they tossed themselves carelessly at the shore. The waters were wild today, moving like lovers tangled in a passionate dance. "You're taking over for Ser Jonothor?"

He hummed in the affirmative, walking closer to her and taking in the view of the water as well. "You're worried about something," he observed.

"I am simply pondering nature's gifts, that is all," she said breezily.

His armor clinked as he moved closer to her. "I don't believe you. But if you insist on being coy, then I suppose I'll just have to try and entertain you away from whatever is worrying you."

She raised one eyebrow at him. "That sounds like it could be quite scandalous. Unless you mean a game of cyvasse, of course."

He groaned. "Do I look like my brother?"

She cocked her head to the side as she looked at him. "No, he is far more handsome."

"You wound me, my queen," he said with his hand over his heart, his emerald eyes shining.

"And the day is still young," she observed. He laughed before raising his eyebrows at her, his expression asking for her to say what was on her mind.

Elia exhaled and let out a small laugh. "How do you always know?" she asked quietly with a sad smile. "I just miss her and...and find myself worried." One of her hands fell to the side and began to fidget with the cream silk of her gown. "When did Northerners last see a Dornish girl, Targaryen to boot?"

Jaime's face softened as he looked at her. "She is strong, you know that." Then he looked around to see if anyone was by them. Seeing no one, he slowly and lightly took hold of her hand that was worrying itself with her dress, calming it. "She will be fine, I know it."

Then he brought her hand to his lips, laying a small kiss on her skin.

Elia closed her eyes, a shaky breath escaping her lips. She allowed herself to ease out of the present and into the past, relishing its touch.

"I miss you," she whispered.

His hand tightened around hers. "And I you."

There were so many repercussions for Rhaegar and Lyanna's families because of their actions. Rhaenys's trauma, Aegon betrothed before he knew it. And they had also led to Elia finding a new love - only to lose it.

* * *

_King's Landing, 284_

Aegon's second name day had arrived and a small feast was being held to celebrate. It was a few months after the war ended, and it felt like they all might finally be able to let out a breath.

Jaime was technically off duty that night, but found himself with the royal children nonetheless. Aegon was running - toddling rather - around Doran's chair with a toy dragon in his hand, and Elia was dancing with Oberyn and Rhaenys. The little princess was happier than she had been since the attack, and it was a beautiful sight to see her laughing again as her uncle spun her around. Her laughter seemed to be infectious, as Elia looked just as happy.

He and the Queen had become close friends by this point. During the war, as Aerys's madness deepened, they had begun to form a bond. Perhaps part of it was that they really had no one else - his father had taken his sister back to the Rock; and for her, Ashara had been sent back to Dorne. And then they began to take solace in the other's company - they were both hostages after all.

For Jaime's part, he felt like he had a renewed purpose in the Princess - now Queen. For so long, someone else had chosen for him.

His father - pushing him to be the perfect heir he never wanted to be.

His sister - using his weakness for her and scheming for him to join the Kingsguard. He never did find out how she planted the idea in Aerys's head.

Then the Mad King himself - locking the deal and forcing him to stay in the capital during the war as a way of controlling the Lord of Casterly Rock. And all the while, the heroism and majesty of the White Cloak faded quicker each day - as Aerys burned someone alive and they did nothing; as he raped his wife - and they did nothing.

He and Elia had become friends amid their misery, and it had made the days more bearable for both of them. They both had a dry sense of humor, and he enjoyed spending time with Rhaenys as much as the young princess loved running after the young lion. When he was finally able to coax a true laugh out of Elia, he found himself wondering how Rhaegar could have left her.

And then one night, as Aerys grew worse and hurt Rhaella as he always did after a burning, Elia turned to him and said, "I know that the Kingsguard are not here for my good-mother or myself." And then she clasped his hand. "But please," she said, closing her eyes as though she were in prayer, "Please promise you will protect my children. Somewhere in your knight's vows, you were charged to defend the young and innocent too," she reminded him, opening her eyes and holding his gaze fiercely. "They are innocent above all others - and they need you. It could be Aerys, it could be the rebels - who knows? You need not do anything for me, but for them - _please_."

And so for once, he made a choice on his own.

He didn't know if it was the fact that someone had asked him rather than commanded him. Or because it was her who asked, reminded him he was supposed to be more. Perhaps both.

Perhaps just the latter.

He found himself thinking upon that as he watched his friend, his Queen. His eyes couldn't look away, taking in the sight of her finally happy. When she had walked into the room on the arm of Rhaegar that night, Jaime felt his breath stop. She wore a dress of bright yellow and below her gold crown, her dark hair was loose for once. Normally her locks were bound in the uptight styles of the capital, but that night her hair was like waves of night unleashed.

But she still looked like the embodiment of the sun. He found it hard _not_ to look at her.

The Lannister knight was not the only one observing her. Lyanna's eyes were on them too as Elia danced with Oberyn who held Rhaenys in his arms as well, all of them were laughing as he spun his niece around. In a moment, as Elia turned on the floor with her brother and daughter, she caught how her 'sister-wife' watched them - with pain and desperate envy. Neither of Lyanna's brothers had returned her letters. And from what Elia had been told by Varys, Eddard Stark had even gone so far as to have her letters sent back with a brief message of his own - asking her to not to write until he did and that when the time comes, he would like for his nephew to visit and perhaps foster at Winterfell. But that was all. No more, no less.

She'd also heard that the youngest brother had just joined the Night's Watch. Elia was slightly taken aback by that. House Stark had been decimated, and there was only the babe, named for Baratheon. Surely he would have waited until there was a spare? Or not join at all? She knew a bit about the Night's Watch - the Lord Commander was Dornish after all - and she knew Starks had a history of joining. But he was so young! She wondered what Lyanna thought about it?

She shook herself from those thoughts. She didn't want to think about the Stark girl tonight - tonight was about Aegon; about Rhaenys finding her laughter again; about she and her brothers being together after so long - it was about _living_.

That was why she had no desire to dance with her husband beyond one - maybe two dances - to satisfy the eyes of the realm. They were engaged in their first dance at the moment, Elia hoping the musicians would keep the song short.

"Lord Tyrell is quite happy," Rhaegar commented, trying to make conversation.

She scoffed, looking out to the crowd so she did not have to meet his eyes. "Of course he is. His babe will be queen one day. Why should he not be happy?"

Rhaegar sighed as he turned them on the floor. "You know it had to be done."

Her stomach tightened, engaged in a conversation she had no energy for. "Yes, I do. Our young son already betrothed because we must cement our allies." _Because of you,_ was what went unsaid but heard in the space between them nonetheless.

He had tried many times over the past few months to revive what they'd had at Dragonstone when they were first married, but she would not yield. Even if part of her wanted to feel the warmth of his lips, his body against hers again - forgiveness would not come easily. Plus his wolf-girl could keep him warm enough.

Rhaegar gazed at her intently before speaking again. "You look beautiful tonight, Elia."

She still did not look at him but smiled at the crowd as they wove through other couples, remaining silent.

"Elia, did you hear me?" he asked.

She continued to not meet his gaze even as she felt his burn into her. "I have no need for false compliments, Rhaegar," she sighed.

"I speak truly, I wish you would believe me," he said quietly.

She continued to smile for the crowd around them, but it was becoming harder. Biting the inside of her cheeks so she could stifle away the emotions welling within her, she finally looked him in the eyes. "Do you truly expect me to ever believe anything you say to me? To trust you?"

"I have apologized repeatedly, what more do you want from me, Elia?" he pleaded, but mixed into his voice was a hint of anger, she noted. "I miss you," he said, pulling her closer.

"Do you think that makes it better? That you can say 'I'm sorry' and it will be as though none of this happened? You made your choice. And we are here tonight _in spite of that_." Finally the song drew to a close, a relief to her ears and heart. She brought her lips to his ear then. "You made it clear you do not need me. I loved you, and you spit on that love. At least let me have this night to celebrate our son without ruining it." She moved to leave him, but his hand grasped her waist before she could.

"I do need you and love you still." His lips pressed against the space between her neck and ear, his breath hot against her skin. She could feel her body react to his touch and she hated that it would betray her like that. "I just want us to go back to how we were before, Elia," he whispered to her.

"There is no going back, how do you now see that?" she asked quietly as she ripped herself from him as discreetly as possible and rushed into the crowd of couples, greeting lords and ladies. She was still trying to regain her composure when Jaime came before her.

The young lion had watched his Queen and the King dance with a steady gaze, and after a year of growing closer, he knew Elia was upset. He gave her a knowing and sympathetic look and then extended his hand to her. "Would you do me the honor of a dance, my Queen?"

She let out a sigh of relief before she clasped her hand in his. "Thank you," she whispered, as they went onto the dance floor. She wanted to forget Rhaegar and think about what was good in life right then. She focused on her dance partner who was someone she could always speak easily with. Perhaps it was only natural - after suffering together during the war, after he saved her and the children - and once Rhaegar returned with a second wife, Elia drew even closer to the young knight.

"It's odd to see you like this, Ser Jaime. I'm so used to you stomping about in your heavy armor," she remarked with a comfortable sigh, feeling more at ease.

"Stomping about?" he inquired with mock outrage. "I don't stomp about, Your Grace. Perhaps I just...have a heavy step."

She tsk-tsk-ed. "So unlike a lion. How can you catch prey like that?" she asked with an arched brow.

He laughed, shaking his head. "You have me there, my Queen."

"I'm sorry," she told him with a laugh. Jaime loved when she laughed. It did not happen often, but when it did, his eyes always drank in the sight. "This has been a good night," she told him with a confident nod, trying to shake off thoughts of Rhaegar and focus on the children. "Finally, after everything, some happiness."

"Yes," he agreed. "It feels like grey clouds are finally lifting, if not completely, some."

"Because of you," she told him quietly, her eyes full of sincerity. "Because of you."

He gulped, swallowing the feelings he felt at the honesty in her eyes. "Are things...well with the King? If I may ask?"

"They are what they are. I am simply trying to make do with...the mess he has brought to our family." Her eyes turned from him to the crowd of lords and ladies around them. "Do you know," she began slowly, "some at court whisper that I had no objection to Rhaegar taking a second wife? Simply because I'm from Dorne?"

He scoffed. "They're idiots, the lot of them. They do not deserve the time of your thoughts."

She hummed in agreement. "I'm not sure any of them have even met a woman from Dorne. I don't know where they got the idea we welcome polygamy - we aren't Targaryens. Perhaps it is Oberyn's fault," she said dryly, though with a small laugh. Her eyes traveled around the room then to find the children who were with her brothers. Aegon was in Doran's arms already falling asleep. Rhaenys was content sitting on Oberyn's lap, yawning while she practiced weaving braids into Ellaria's hair having made a small one in her own.

Elia sighed with a smile, feeling content as she looked upon her children. "I should put them to bed," she told Jaime. "It's already past their bedtime."

"I can escort you to the nursery," he told her matter-of-factly.

"You are not on duty, I don't want to spoil your night, Jaime," she replied, though found herself hoping he would not agree to her offer.

"Don't you want the best for them?" he asked with a smirk.

She rolled her eyes but rewarded him with a smile begrudgingly. He managed to be arrogant and kind at once and it was infuriatingly endearing.

"Well, if you insist, I shall not reject your services." They joined her brothers and their families for a bit before she gently picked up her young little prince to put him to bed. Jaime picked up Rhaenys who hugged him tightly as they walked towards Rhaegar so he could said goodnight too.

"I'm putting them to bed and then I shall return," Elia told him, stroking Aegon's hair though she did not meet his eyes.

Rhaegar smiled, placing a kiss on Aegon's forehead before he took Rhaenys from the knight's arms.

"Do you like my braid, papa?" Rhaenys asked her father with wide eyes. "I did it all myself," she stated. Elia fought the emotions welling up. She wondered if Rhaenys would feel so keen for her father's approval if she hadn't felt abandoned to begin with.

"You look beautiful, my little dragon," he replied, caressing her small work with a smile.

"Do you mean it?" she asked earnestly.

"Always," he replied, hugging her. "You must do one for me tomorrow, hmm?" She hummed happily as she embraced him back before returning to Jaime's arms to depart for the night. As they walked through the corridor to the nursery, Rhaenys carried on her braid practice on the Lannister knight's golden locks.

"You look so pretty, Jaime," Rhaenys whispered happily when she finished, a small, very messy braid on either side. Elia had to stifle a laugh so she did not hurt her daughter's feelings.

"I have no doubt that I do, Princess," he replied warmly.

She grinned in achievement and put her small arms around the knight's neck, embracing him tightly even as she yawned.

Once Aegon was put to bed, they both sat with Rhaenys as she slipped under the covers of her bed.

"Are you sure you do not want to sleep in my room?" Elia asked, stroking Rhaenys hair. She had only returned to the nursery that week.

"I can do it, mama. I will be brave, like Jaime," she said quietly but with as much confidence as a four year old could have. "But if the nightmares return," she looked down at the sheet, biting her lower lip nervously, "may I come back to your room?" Rhaenys asked her mother as she pulled the sheet to her chin. Elia bent down and kissed her forehead, fighting the way her body clenched at her daughter's fear.

"Of course, my little sun. I'm always here for you," she told her, her voice shaking slightly as she stroked her cheek. Rhaenys smiled and closed her eyes, relaxing into the bed as her mother began to sing softly to her. When Elia felt Rhaenys's tight grip on her hand relax, she knew she was soundly asleep and so they left the room quietly. Once the door was closed, the Queen leaned against it with her eyes closed, brows furrowed.

"Are you well?" Jaime inquired gently.

She swallowed the lump - a ball of fear, anger, love and uncertainty - that had formed in her throat. "I think my daughter might be braver than I am," she answered before opening her eyes. When her eyes landed on Jaime, she saw his braids and let out a short laugh.

"She's right, you look very pretty, Jaime." Her laugh was like soft bells of light and he couldn't bring himself to even try to pretend to be annoyed.

"She should have done this before the feast, what good is it now?" he asked wryly.

She looked at the messy braids before her eyes moved to his face. "She loves you, you know," she told him warmly.

"I am easy to love," he remarked with a smirk before his expression softened. "She is easy to love," he added quietly before moving to undo the braids, wincing slightly.

"Here, let me untangle them. Her braiding isn't quite as tidy as she thinks yet." She moved closer to him to undo her daughter's handywork. Their faces weren't far apart now, Elia looking up at him to assume her task, and Jaime couldn't help but stare at her. The last time - perhaps only time - they'd been so close was when she hugged him tightly the night of the attack. Now he could count every long eyelash, trace the lines of her pink lips with his eyes. He found himself looking at the spot on her cheek where he knew a dimple always formed when she smiled or laughed.

He knew he should not notice these things, but as they had grown closer, it had become harder _not_ to notice.

Elia felt his gaze as she undid the second braid and her eyes met his, even as her fingers continued at their task.

"There," she whispered, their eyes still locked. "I think that should do the trick." She brushed her fingers through his hair delicately as one final touch. He exhaled a quiet, shaky breath as he continued to stare at her. Her touch was soft - and stirring.

"I suppose we should return to the feast, I've kept you away long enough, Jaime," she finally said haltingly, trying to ignore the nerves in her stomach that she knew she should not be feeling.

"Do you want to return?" he asked her, his eyes more earnest than usual.

That question made her heart beat faster for some reason. She did not answer him at first and so silence filled the small space left between them instead. "Perhaps we should," she finally answered in a whisper.

Jaime looked down to her hands, thinking of how it had felt when they were moving through his hair. Then he moved to lightly clasp her hand in his. "What if _I_ don't want to return," he questioned quietly.

Her eyes had shifted downward, looking at their joined hands. "Are you displeased with the crowd?" she asked lightly, trying to pretend nothing had changed even as her voice shook and the beat of her heart began to roar in her ears. But she did not take her hand back.

His eyes moved up, locking on hers, as he began to slowly trace his thumb over her knuckles. "Perhaps."

Her eyes moved from their hands to his face. She'd always thought him handsome - only a fool would not. But that was not why she felt herself falling into something only he could solve. He'd become her friend, her confidante - they trusted each other. On the days he was on duty watching her, everything was brighter and she felt pure joy and relief.

She was roused from her thoughts when he spoke again. "I don't think I told you, but you look beautiful tonight. You always do." His words were quiet but steady.

"Jaime," she breathed nervously.

He took a step towards her, closing the remaining gap between them and bringing their faces only a few inches apart. His free hand moved to her face, gently stroking her cheek as he gazed at her face. It was as though he was trying to memorize her in that moment.

"Tell me to stop and I will," he whispered.

Elia watched him, taking in every detail as she contemplated all the reasons she should pull away. But then she thought about everything he had made her feel over the past few months - safety, warmth, humor - _life_.

And that was how she found herself bringing her lips to his. He let out a soft groan as he accepted the gift he'd wanted for longer than he knew. Then he moved swiftly, pressing his body against hers and then both into the wall. His tongue pushed past her lips, opening her mouth for him, and Elia could not suppress the whimper that escaped. As she carded her fingers through his hair and his body pressed into hers, she wondered when she last felt like this - warm, _alive_.

And then she snapped herself awake - realizing what she had done. She broke the kiss, pulling herself away.

"I'm so sorry," she breathed, trying to catch her breath as she backed away from him, her eyes wide.

He moved towards her, trying to close the gap again. "Why are you apologizing?" He brought his hand to her cheek. "And why did you stop?"

"I - I must go back to my brothers, they'll be expecting me," she stammered quietly. "And the guards should be here soon."

He looked at her, question and hurt taking over his face, but nodded nonetheless. "If that's what you want."

Elia found herself thinking on his last words the rest of the night and into the following day. What did she want? She tried not to look at Jaime the next day, but she could not avoid him forever. And so when he escorted her back to her chambers at the end of the day, as they walked in silence towards her room and tension swirled between them, her mind settled on - _admitted_ \- what she wanted.

And so when they got to her door, she walked into her room and turned around, asking only with a look if he was coming in.

He did not hesitate.

And so it began.

The first time, they both were shaking - from nerves, from the fear of being caught - but mostly from excitement. They grew to know each other's body like they were memorizing vows to recite. Often they would giggle like children with a secret, kissing and smiling at once somehow as they rid each other of their clothes. They learned how to touch and tease the other to push them past the brink of pleasure.

And some nights, they did not even couple. They would just lie in bed together, talking. On one such night, Elia's head was lying on Jaime's chest, her hair unbound. He had taken to twirling a strand of it in his fingers with one hand. The other hand was grazing along her stomach over her shift, occasionally causing her to laugh and squirm.

"Jaime," she pleaded, "you know I am ticklish."

"Gods, your laugh has not changed since you were young, when you visited the Rock," he said in amusement.

"You remember, do you?" she asked lightly.

He paused for a moment, sobering, before he answered. "I remember that visit clear as day," he responded quietly. "How you held Tyrion after Cersei hurt him."

She tilted her head up to look at him. "You stopped her, not me," she soothed.

"Only after I saw how excited you were to hold him, to care for him," he whispered. "You broke me out of her hold at the moment, even if only for a short time." He kissed her gently. "You seem to have that effect on me - making me better," he told her with an amused smile.

"I like the effect you have on me too," she replied softly, bringing a hand up to run through his hair.

It continued for months like this. And those were the most freeing months of Elia's life since she came to the capital. Nights like that, of calm warmth; others where their lips barely left the other as they burned through each other; stolen moments of intimacy during the day.

"This is real, isn't it?" she asked him once in the middle of the night as they had just discarded the day's wear.

"If it's not, then it can only be a dream. And fuck the man or gods who try to wake me," he declared before his lips claimed hers.

Sometimes Elia wondered if Jaime's declaration that night had tempted the gods.

Because it had all been so wonderful - until it was not.

Until Lyanna Stark had gone and died. Somehow the woman-child that had brought so much upheaval and damage to her in life managed to do so yet again in death.

"The small folk say she was cursed and the child too - that this was the gods' punishment for what she and Rhaegar did," Elia said to Jaime wearily with a laugh as she looked out the window of her room. Before she knew it, she felt him behind her. His arms surrounded her waist, pulling her into him, and his head bent into her neck, soft lips against her warm skin. "Jaime…"

He pulled his head up after a moment. "You want to end this, don't you," he said flatly.

"You think I want that?" she turned around to ask him, her voice filled with hurt. Then she brought her hands to his face, holding it to look him in the eyes. "Of course I do not want to end this, how can you think that?" she asked in a whisper. "But I...with her gone, I do not know if it will be so easy to hide this. Rhaegar will not be so distracted anymore. I cannot take that chance - you know it could put Aegon and Rhaenys at risk." She closed her eyes, cursing herself. "Perhaps I have already taken too much risk, been too selfish."

He leaned his forehead against hers as he closed his eyes. "He does not deserve you."

She fought the tears beginning to well up. "These past few months - I need you to know what they have meant to me," she said as her hands caressed his cheeks, his hair. She wondered when she would be able to touch him like this again. "If you wanted, he would release you from the Kingsguard to go back to the Rock - you could marry, have a life," she told him.

He brought his head back to look at her. "You want me to leave?"

"No," she said sadly. "But perhaps it would be easier for you."

His eyes were full of confusion, anger - and love. "That is not what I want."

"Perhaps..perhaps when we visit Dorne...we would be more free there," she said tentatively. "It is not much but - " he cut her off with a kiss, Elia letting out a soft cry of pleasure and sorrow against his lips.

He kissed her once more before bringing their foreheads together. "I am yours. If that is what we have, that is what we have."

She closed her eyes in pain and kissed him again.

* * *

Jaime's thumb ghosted over Elia's knuckles. The act shook her awake awake from the thoughts of the past - only to find it in front of her. As they stood in the small space of her favorite flowers, Elia observed how the sunlight dripped across Jaime's face as though it had nowhere else to be.

"You have not been to Dorne in some time," he said quietly.

A forlorn smile crossed her lips. "Yes, that's true," she agreed even as she took her hand from his and clasped it with her other in front of her, locking it away from where it truly wanted to be. "Perhaps we may go after the children return?"

He gazed at her, eyes unflinching. "Please."

"Yes," she whispered turning again to look at the water. "It's been too long." The sound of her son's dragon rang nearby then, cutting into the air as well as the intense emotions between the two of them. "Can you believe Aegon's nameday is coming so soon?"

Jaime let out a small laugh. "No, I don't know where the years went." Lightness and mirth took over his eyes then. "You know, for being both a dragon and Dornish, your son is remarkably calm - tame even."

"It is surprising, isn't it?" she replied with a laugh. "But sometimes I find it reassuring, I suppose." 

It was then that a loud roar ripped through the air, drowning out the sounds of the waves that had been so boisterous before. Elia and Jaime looked up to see Aegon's dragon flying through the air right above them now. Abrax's scales dazzled as the sunlight fell upon them. As she squinted her eyes looking up, it dawned upon Elia then how much the dragon had grown recently.

And then the great beast turned, his wings tilting his entire body and that was when the Queen spotted a flash of silver hair rippling atop the body of the black dragon.

If there was a ground beneath her feet, Elia could not feel it any longer.

"AEGON!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that probably seems a bit messy and it is - but I wanted to show how things changed for Aegon and Elia too. I've been sitting on this chapter since I published the last one and can't seem to get it where I want it to be but decided to publish it anyways. Otherwise this story would stall for too long - and I don't want to abandon it, particularly as bits and pieces of futures chapters are already written! Hope it's not too awful, le sigh. Back soon (I hope) in Winterfell
> 
> In any case, comments (and kudos should you feel so inclined!) appreciated


	11. Chapter 11

Arya looked down at the cloth, thread and needle and let out an exasperated sigh. Sansa, Jeyne and Beth were happily chatting as they continued on with their needlework, and she had to fight the urge to roll her eyes. _Why do I have to be here when I could be with Rhaenys and Jon?_

She tossed the needlework to the ground and stood up. "I am going to go find Princess Rhaenys," Arya declared.

"You haven't finished you work!" Septa Mordane protested.

Arya turned at the door to look at her. "Are you going to tell the Princess that you stopped me from finding her?"

The older woman gaped at the little girl's question before closing her mouth and turning back to the other girls that remained. Arya smirked in her victory before leaving the room quickly.

She bounded down the steps eagerly, meeting Nymeria at the base and they both took off running together. She couldn't wait to find Rhaenys and Jon. Having them here, she had finally started to feel good about herself. It was hard to feel like that normally when her sister was so perfect. Not only was Sansa better at needlework, but she had the look of a Tully. She had the luck of not looking one ounce like their infamous aunt. On top of that, Arya wasn't good at being a lady - as their Septa took no pains to remind her about at every chance.

But so what if her hands were like a blacksmith like Septa Mordane claimed? They worked well enough to twirl a spear like Rhaenys taught her. And while Jeyne and Beth flocked to Sansa, it was her that Rhaenys had become close with - _she_ was Rhaenys's friend. And the fact that the graceful and polite Princess spent so much time with Arya and the boys sparring puzzled the others - especially her Septa.

It was wonderful.

Arya finally found her cousin and the Princess in the courtyard by the main entrance to the Great Keep, their sole Kingsguard by them along with two royal guards. Jon and Rhaenys were huddled together reading a letter.

"What are you reading?" she asked in between breaths, concluding her run to them with a skid of her feet.

They both looked up from the letter with slightly shocked expressions. It was Rhaenys who finally answered. "We received a raven from the capital. Our brother…he…" Rhaenys shook her head as though she was trying to get rid of a cobweb around her. "He seems to have become a dragonrider while we were away."

Arya's eyes widened. "He rode his dragon?"

Jon laughed at her shock, one that matched theirs when they first read the letter. "It appears so." He looked back to Rhaenys with a smile. "Gods, I would give anything to have seen mother's reaction. Who would have thought he would be the first?"

Rhaenys snorted. "It's not really that surprising. He always delights in upending expectations. At some point, mother is going to have to recognize the bits of Uncle Oberyn that are in Aegon - mischievous devil," she laughed.

"Does this mean you'll ride your dragons when you go back?" Arya asked excitedly.

Rhaenys and Jon looked at each other, slightly stumped. "I guess we'll have to see," Jon finally replied. Then he turned to his skinny cousin. "Aren't you supposed to be in a lesson right now?"

She returned the question with a slight scowl. "You're leaving soon! And I don't want to do needlework." Then her expression turned to excitement and hope. "Can I show you what Rhaenys has taught me? Please?" she asked with wide eyes.

"You know, you make it very hard to say no to you," he replied laughing. "Let's go then, show me what you learned on the spear."

She was about to take Jon's hand when she seemed to remember something. "Wait, where's Uncle Benjen? I've gotten better since he last came with us. I want to show him!" Benjen Stark had accompanied Arya and Rhaenys for some of the past few afternoons during their spear lessons and had even given a few lessons with a sparring sword to his niece.

At the end of those sessions, he and Rhaenys had walked around the grounds, just talking. And by the end of each of those days, Rhaenys had felt lighter and happier than she could remember. He didn't come yesterday though, and the Princess found herself feeling overwhelming disappointment at his absence.

"I'll find him!" Rhaenys found herself answering Arya in a rush. Jon gave her a quizzical look until he was jerked away by a grinning Arya as she took them towards the yard by the Broken Tower where she and Rhaenys had taken to conducting their lessons. Ser Oswell gave the guards a nod and they took off quickly behind Arya and Jon.

Rhaenys started walking towards the castle entrance with Ser Owell. "So, what do you make of the North, Your Grace? Have you enjoyed it here?" he asked her.

She turned to look at him with a smile. "It is an interesting land. And everyone has been so gracious here. And you? Are you glad you asked for this assignment?"

"It's alright here." Then a softer expression took over his face. "It's been nice to see Lady Stark, haven't seen her in ages. We don't get to see our family often, so I'm glad Ser Barristan let me come with you."

Rhaenys smiled at that. She hadn't known that Ser Oswell was a relative of Lady Stark until he asked to be the one that came with her and Jon on their trip. He wasn't necessarily her favorite knight, but she wouldn't begrudge him a chance to see family.

"Well, I'm quite excited for the rest of our trip, it should be an interesting journey to the Wall," she told him.

The knight grumbled. "It's going to be much colder there, you know. Not too late to back out."

She snorted a laugh. "And here I thought you were made of sterner stuff, Ser Oswell." She nearly made a comment about him tolerating the sun of Dorne when he'd had no business being there, but she restrained herself. There was no point in torturing him on that front. Thankfully they came upon a servant who directed her towards where she could find Benjen.

He was currently with Maester Luwin, going over supplies they would be taking back to the Wall.

"Hello, Maester Luwin." Her eyes turned to the First Ranger. "Hello, Benjen," she said softly. They both gave her a bow and when he brought his head up, Benjen's eyes locked on hers. For some reason, nerves were fluttering in her stomach as they looked at each other. She straightened her shoulders, trying to remember her original mission. "I've been instructed to retrieve you and bring you to Lady Arya."

He raised an eyebrow as he smiled at her. "Is she by the Tower?"

A small grin crossed Rhaenys's lips as she nodded.

"Well," he began, handing a paper back to Maester Luwin. "No fighting that order."

They departed with Ser Oswell and began the walk to the Broken Tower, crossing back across the courtyard as they made their way to the other side of the grounds, large walls of grey granite surrounding them. The days had started to feel slightly colder recently, but to her surprise, Rhaenys found that she didn't mind. Perhaps it was simply because Winterfell and its hot springs were a perfect guard.

"Arya was disappointed that you did not come to our lesson yesterday," Rhaenys told Benjen as they walked. She wanted to add that she was too - but didn't.

As they walked under the covered bridge between the armory and the Great Keep, Benjen found himself glad for the shadow the structure provided, hoping it might hide his expression. He nearly did go to the lesson, like he had promised the little wolf. But he'd stopped himself in the end. It wasn't that he didn't want to see his niece - on the contrary, he loved spending time with her. But a part of him questioned if he was spending too much time with the Princess - even if the other part of him felt like their walks and discussions after the lessons were a soothing balm.

Talking with her was like some kind of medicine, he found himself thinking - until that other part of him pulled him back.

"Yes, I meant to come," he started to reply as they got closer to the Tower. "But something came up with Ned, I hope she wasn't too upset."

Rhaenys shook her head with a smile. "No, she just wants to show off for you, she's quite good."

"She's got a good teacher, doesn't she?" he returned warmly, and she responded with both a soft laugh and embarrassed look.

Ser Oswell walked behind the two and observed them with curiosity, utterly perplexed. He wasn't used to seeing the Princess so warm and unguarded with anyone other than her family - _well_, _not the KIng, of course_. What was going on here, he wondered? _She's not even this nice to me,_ he thought in a slight grumble. And where was the gruffness he'd seen in Benjen Stark when he first arrived? Walking with them, he somehow felt like he was intruding.

They finally reached their destination, Jon and Arya sparring together and laughing. But Rhaenys's eyes widened in slight shock as she looked at Arya who was covered in mud. "What happened?" she asked hurriedly. She looked at Jon with a stern glance.

He put up his hands in mock defense. "I didn't do it! She slipped in a patch of muddy grass, I promise!"

Rhaenys turned to Arya to confirm who gave her a sheepish grin. "I wasn't paying attention, it's my fault."

The Princess approached her and looked at her face, making sure there weren't any cuts or injuries. "Are you hurt?" she asked in concern.

Arya shook her head quickly and vigorously before looking to her Uncle with a big smile. "Watch, Uncle Benjen! I couldn't do this two days ago and now I can!" She twirled the spear in one hand before tossing it to her other, catching it - and then looked back at her uncle expectantly.

He grinned proudly. "You're a quick study, little wolf. Should I take you on my next ranging mission?" he joked.

"Yes!" Arya yelled excitedly. Jon let out a good-hearted groan and pulled her away, shaking his head at his Uncle with a grin.

"Well, now you've done it - she's not going to forget that," Rhaenys remarked laughing.

"Probably," he chuckled. "Ned and Cat will have my head for that, I'm sure."

They leaned against the tower, the abandoned structure's stones cold against their backs and watched as Jon and Arya resumed their sparring. After a few moments, Rhaenys turned to look at him.

"How did you get that?" she asked, nodding her head towards a large scar on his face. It began on the side of his forehead and curved down past his eyebrow to the top of his sharp cheekbone.

He brought a hand up, touching the scar and she could see his brain going back to the memory. "Wildlings, an attack during a ranging a few years back."

"Oh," she breathed. "It must have been quite an intense fight?" Looking at the scar, it somehow made her feel a bit foolish at her own training. And then it dawned on her how often he must face life and death and it brought a chill to her, thinking of him being in danger like that.

Benjen nodded to her question, letting out a deep breath. "We lost two men before we got out of there." Then he laughed to himself lightly. "When I saw Ned the first time after this, I thought he was either going to faint or take off to find the wildlings that did it."

She laughed at that. "I don't have trouble imagining it. It must always be a relief to see you here for him?"

He swallowed a lump in his throat as he nodded at her with a weak smile. "Aye. Sometimes I feel wrong, making him worry so. But...this is what we have, I suppose."

They were both leaning easily, lazily even, into the tower, their heads turned to the other. Benjen wondered how hard stones could feel so comfortable.

"Do you have all the supplies you need?" she asked him.

Benjen nodded. "Aye, we're well set-up now. And we have what we need for the journey. Have to make it through tomorrow's feast first though," he said with a laugh.

"Yes, Lady Stark seems quite excited for it. It's so kind of her to do so much for us," she replied. "But I'm excited for our journey and what lies ahead," she said warmly.

He looked at her, regarding her for a moment. "What fascinates you so much about the Night's Watch? About the lands beyond the Wall? You write so much to Maester Aemon about it all."

She hesitated to answer. "Do you know that it is not just here but also in Essos they speak of something like the Long Night too?"

He regarded her thoughtfully. "I did not, no."

"Well, I have read about the Long Night, how the Wall came to be. It was not to keep wildlings out, surely."

Benjen looked away then. His eyes were turned north, his mind in deep thought. "No that is true." And then he continued, his voice quieting. "And even with the way they can attack us...it's not the wildlings giving me sleepless nights."

Her eyes widened. "Did something happen?"

He let out a deep breath as he looked up, his eyes scrunching in thought. "No, it's just...I don't know, truth be told. I think you know of the talk from wildlings as of late...what they speak of." He looked back at her earnestly then and she nodded solemnly. "Something has changed, the air is different beyond the Wall. There are cold winds rising, I know that much." He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before opening them and looking at her once more.

"I still don't quite understand your interest in it all though," he said with a confused but intrigued tone.

She smiled somewhat nervously at him, looking down at her hands as they fidgeted with the bottom of her tunic. She let out a deep sigh as she leaned her head against the stones of the Broken Tower. "As much as I hate to admit it, I suppose it started with my father," she told him quietly.

"What do you mean?" he asked, confused.

She sighed before replying. "He has always said that he did what he did...back then," she looked at him with an anxious glance before continuing. "Because of some blasted prophecy that had to do with the Others and...and the Long Night coming again."

Benjen looked at her slightly shocked. It was mad what she was talking about.

"I suppose I wanted to find some way to make it all...make sense, try to understand why he did what he did." She closed her eyes and let out a deep breath calmly. "And then I just wanted to understand how the Long Night came about and why there are similar accounts in other parts of the world and what it all meant, what could happen in the future," she continued in a rush. "I just like to have answers, not having answers is maddening."

He fought the urge to smile, taken in by this quirk of hers. "I can understand that. It's almost like when you have lost something and can't find it, but you know it must be somewhere."

She looked at him brightly. "Yes! That's exactly the feeling. Don't you hate it when that happens?"

He laughed, nodding. "Do you talk to your brothers about this much?" he asked her.

She smiled at him before turning her head to look away in thought. "Some. But it's hard for them to understand, and I don't want them to feel...burdened. Aegon has enough to bear without worrying about me and my crazy thoughts. And Jon...he already feels bad enough as it is even though he did nothing but be born." A warm look took over her face though. "My mother listens though."

Benjen didn't know much about Elia Martell - the woman his sister and the King shamed so publicly as they damned the realm to war. But he'd thought about her often in the past - after Harrenhal and then during the war. When he'd been alone in Winterfell then, he often thought of those who had been wronged - and if he could have changed it all.

"What...what is she like, your mother?" he asked hesitantly.

"My mother..." She sighed with fondness. "She is...everything. Sometimes I look at her and wonder how she is so strong. And I wonder if I could ever be like that."

"You seem quite strong to me," he remarked quietly.

She felt a warmth inside her when he said that and immediately felt the need to deflect. "So says the man who did not think I should come to the Wall?" she teased, earning an embarrassed though amused look from the ranger. Just then Arya ran in between them, jumping up to hug Rhaenys.

"Did you see that? I was able to spin it above my head and switch hands! I can do it!" Rhaenys laughed in delight, hugging Arya back as Benjen watched them with a fond look. Jon approached then too with a smile.

"Come on, cousin, show me one more time," he said laughing. Arya jumped down from Rhaenys's arms to follow Jon.

She laughed and looked back at Benjen who had a warm expression on his face. When he looked back at her though, his brows furrowed for a moment and before she knew it, his hand was gently brushing her cheek, his thumb softly wiping at something. She felt like all the air had left her lungs in that moment, feeling his hand on her skin.

And all she wanted to do was lean into his touch.

Benjen drew his hand back quickly, looking shocked. "My apologies, there was just - she got some mud on you," he stammered. _How could you forget yourself like that,_ he thought to himself.

She touched her hand to her face, wanting to find the mud but also hide what was surely a flush on her cheeks. "It's alright," she breathed nervously. She wiped at the area he had touched. "All gone then?" He gave her a short, anxious nod. Then they both turned to look at Jon and Arya.

"I'm going to miss her," Rhaenys whispered, leaning her back against the thick stones of the tower.

"I think the feeling is mutual."

She turned to face him then, her head and body tilted into the wall as she looked at him. "Funny thing isn't it? A Dornish princess and Lyanna Stark's likeness, thick as thieves," she remarked wistfully.

He smiled at her, his expression somehow an easy calm yet alive all at once. He turned to face her, leaning against the wall of the tower like her, bracing himself into the stones. "The gods love their games, I suppose."

"Old and new," she concluded. "And who are we to deny them?" He laughed and looked down before looking back at her.

For a moment, they simply stood there, bodies turned to the other as old abandoned stones of the past supported them. Black crows circled above. There were always crows at the tower, Rhaenys realized. And as their wings pushed against the wind, they watched from above, waiting.

"Well, shall we let Jon and Arya have all the fun or will you finally spar with me, Benjen?" Rhaenys asked him.

He smiled at her. "I don't suppose I can refuse a royal command." He pushed himself off the wall, Rhaenys following suit, as they moved to find sparring weapons nearby.

From a distance, Ser Oswell watched the Princess and the ranger. And as they began to spar with each other, eyes fixed on the other as though they were readying to begin a battle, the weathered knight found his own eyes widening and head shaking as a realization took hold.

_What game are the gods playing?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote that beginning bit about Arya because her first chapter in AGOT always stuck with me. The line about how Nymeria loved her "even if no one else did" - broke my heart.
> 
> This isn't beta-read and I wrote this chapter somewhat quickly so apologies for any grammatical mistakes!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Well, you have not hurt me as you claimed you would," she testified.
> 
> "And I'll try not to," he replied.
> 
> It was nearly a promise.

* * *

_The gale blew forcefully through the valley, pieces of icy snow whirling in the air. _

_ She could feel them pierce her face, the frozen particles, as she observed the sight before her. _

_ Wolves ran through the forest, quickly through the dense, cold brush, before coming upon the open valley she was in. _

_ Then came the ice, rising from the ground in pieces like an army. _

_ The wolves howled a warning. _

_ A raven called her name sweetly - but she paid it no mind at first. Her eyes had turned up to the sky as she watched the dragon fly above. _

_ "Abrax..." she wondered, marveling at the dragon's scale, so much grown since she last saw him. _

_ And then a flicker of beautiful silver - it was so comforting. _

_ "Aegon!" she called out. _

_ He gazed down, a lovely smile on his lips even as apprehension, fear and hope mixed throughout the rest of her sweet brother's face. _

_ Then the raven called her name more fiercely, flying through her field of vision in a whirl - cutting away the path of sight to her brother. _

_ And then a piece of large ice shot up before her with a scream. _

* * *

Rhaenys woke in a gasp, trying to find her breath.

She lifted her head up from the pillow slightly, bracing herself on her arms as she tried to make sense of the dream she'd had. She felt glad that it was not like the night terrors that often haunted her from the night of the attack so many years ago. But at least with that, she knew what it was about. This felt similar to the dream she'd had that eventually led her to the dragon eggs a few years ago. The difference from this night was that this dream had left her feeling...unsettled. 

She laid back down, her head hitting the pillow with a thud as she exhaled away the odd feelings she had from the dream and tried to fall back asleep. She tossed and turned, but her mind would not settle back to slumber.

And so instead her thoughts drifted and as the wee morning hours approached, she found herself remembering something Benjen had told her during one of their walks after Arya's lessons, of how beautiful the godswood was just as the sun rose.

She wondered if those walks with him were her favorite part of their trip North.

And now their trip was about to take a turn. It was their last day at Winterfell, tonight there would be a feast and tomorrow they would be off for the Wall. So when she recalled what Benjen had said about the godswood, that was how she found herself changing into a wool tunic and breeches and making her way out quickly confronting the morning chill. As she walked through the grounds to the woods, pulling her cloak tighter around her, her mind probed her intentions. _ Why are you going there? _

Maybe he would not be there, and she would simply enjoy it herself. She'd found the godswood beautiful and enchanting when Jon first took her there when they arrived. And the pools filled with warm water of the hot springs were comforting to her. _ See, that is why you are going_, she thought as she strode through the grove seemingly in a daze. Lost in her thoughts as she walked, that answer seemed to content her - until she realized she had already arrived before the heart tree and saw a figure on his knees in prayer, wolf by his side.

_ He's here. _

He turned around, surprised by the new presence as Dawn trotted over to her. "Your Grace? What are you doing here?" Rhaenys could not decipher his expression - he somehow looked both happy yet apprehensive at her arrival.

She smiled at Dawn, nervously tucking a stray hair behind her ear. She realized then that she hadn't even bothered with her hair and it was barely tied away, put together loose and wild. "I...I wanted to spend some time here before we leave for the Wall and before others awoke. You spoke of how peaceful it was," she sputtered out. "But I did not mean to interrupt your prayers! I'm so sorry." She started to turn around, cursing herself for clearly interrupting his solitude.

"No, it's fine," he called out to her. She turned around at his words. "You may join me if you like, I'm almost done." His tone was kind and she couldn't control the small smile that spread across her lips as she walked over to him. "Do you not follow the Seven?" he asked with a curious look, as she moved to kneel next to him.

Her hands fell into her lap as she stared at the heart tree in front of them. Red sap trickled from the face carved into it, and the ancient weirwood seemed to be waiting for an answer too.

She paused to consider that question. "Aegon does, our mother too. Jon follows the old gods. I…" She looked at the tree for a few moments, tilting her head to study it. Perhaps its eyes should have felt too probing, too scary, too...much. And yet, somehow they felt opening. As Benjen watched her, he observed that her eyes appeared younger for once, more so than he had seen since he met her.

"I...I've always felt most centered outside, away from the capital. Like in the desert in Dorne, the way the sand goes on forever and the sun feels on your skin." She perked up, her eyes livening even more. "And once my Uncle Oberyn took Aegon and I across to Essos - it was the only time we went. And we visited the river Rhoyne. I don't know when I felt calmer and yet more alive than that. Something about...the natural world, how it's bigger than us, always feels reassuring to me."

"As though it knows more than the lot of us," Benjen said with a smile. "I feel that way in the Haunted Forest often."

She looked from the tree to him then, her eyes lit up. "Would you show it to me, the Haunted Forest, when we go to the Wall?" she asked, pure hope alive in her eyes.

His heart swelled seeing how happy just the prospect made her. "If the other rangers say it is safe then, I think that could be arranged, Your Grace," he told her softly. She bit her lower lip, trying to hide her excitement, and Benjen found his eyes drawn the flushed pink that her teeth had sunk into.

"I would like that," she whispered. Then she looked back at the tree and wondered at it. It was beautiful and scary and sacred at once - and she loved that. "I think that honoring the natural world - like the Rhoynar do the Mother river, as the North does the weirwoods - seems a more fitting way of worship. I don't know if that answers what you had asked me?" she asked, turning to look at him, her expression etched in question as well.

He stared at her thoughtfully. "It does. Would you like to send a prayer here?"

She nodded and then they both closed their eyes then. She did not know what to pray for - perhaps she did, but she could or would not say it even to herself - but it felt good to let her mind go. She could have sworn for a moment that she heard a voice calling out to her but it faded as quickly as it came.

They both stayed like that, knelt in silence, for some time. He opened his eyes first and looked over to her. The wind was delicately blowing loose strands of her hair, letting them flutter around her. _ She looks peaceful_, he thought. It gladdened him to see that perhaps the heart tree had given her that. Watching the way the wind was spinning her hair, he found himself thinking she looked perfect amidst the wild godswood. She opened her eyes and looked back at him as they regarded each other. _ His eyes are like a storm_, she thought to herself. _ Endless pools of blue, grey and black. _

He got up then, dusting off some snowy grass from his knees. He offered both his hands to help her up and when she placed them in his, he hoisted her up quickly. Rhaenys yelped as she stumbled into him from the force, causing both of them to let out a small laugh. Benjen caught her at her waist to steady her.

"Apologies, Princess, didn't mean to toss you like that," he chuckled.

She feigned annoyance with a groan. "Why do you insist on calling me 'Princess'? I feel like we go over this every day."

"Because you are a Princess," he answered, gazing down at her as his hands fell back to his sides.

"I didn't take you for someone who placed so much in flowery titles, Benjen," she teased. She looked up at him, her eyes searching.

The wind kicked up then, sending some of the red leaves sprawled on the ground swirling around them in the air. As the wind quieted and the leaves floated down, one landed on Rhaenys's shoulder.

Benjen gingerly picked the deep crimson leaf from her shoulder, inspecting it thoughtfully. "A small token from the Old Gods, it would seem," he said quietly, his voice low and tender as he handed the leaf to her. It looked so much like the flower from the glass garden she had admired before. She shivered but she knew it was not from the cold.

It was at that moment that Jon was padding through the godswood with Ghost when he heard voices and slowed his pace as he approached.

Still half asleep, he rubbed his eyes and as they adjusted, he saw two figures in front of the sprawling pale tree. The scene reminded him of a wedding his Uncle Ned had presided over during his last visit, when two servants from the kitchen were married.

It was then that he realized that it was Rhaenys and his Uncle Benjen. They were standing close together as Rhaenys took something from Benjen's hand and stared at him. _Why does she have that look on her face?_ Jon blinked, trying to figure out what was going on. He looked to Ghost, who answered him by cocking his head, before looking back to his sister and uncle.

_ Oh. _

_ Oooh. _

_ Sister. What are you thinking??_

Unsure of what to do next, he tried to back away to leave but his foot landed on a twig, snapping it. Both of their heads turned at the sound, and Benjen quickly took a step back. Dawn looked at Benjen and Rhaenys, then to Jon and Ghost, and finally back to Benjen. Then she laid her head down on her paws, her eyes continuing to watch what - even to her - was an odd interaction between these humans.

_ So much for leaving quietly_, Jon thought. He summoned an expression of surprise as he walked over to greet them. "You two are up early, I thought I might be the only one here."

Benjen moved over to Jon, before bending down to pet Ghost. "Just getting in some early prayers, nephew, before the day is filled up with endless tasks." He rose back up and gave Jon a pat on the shoulders and a smile. "I'll see you later, I've got to go find Ned." He turned to face Rhaenys then. He looked at her for a moment before giving her a quick nod. "Your Grace," and walked off into the woods, Dawn following behind him.

Jon watched him go before looking to his sister. He walked over to her slowly. "Rhae," he began cautiously. "What were you doing here with Uncle Benjen?"

Her face froze before she forced herself to regain her composure quickly. "What do you mean?" she replied, looking down as she twirled the leaf in her hand.

"The way you two were looking at each other, it just seemed like…" he looked at her, hoping maybe she would give him an answer. She, however, seemed to look anywhere but at him. He let out a slightly exasperated groan. "Gods, Rhae, you know what I'm trying to ask you."

She smoothed her cloak, still not looking at him. "I don't. Speak plainly, little brother. You're supposed to be of the North, after all." A part of her did know what he was getting at and the other part of her denied its other half.

Jon sighed heavily. "What I am trying to say is that it looked like there was something between you two. Something romantic."

Her eyes darted to the ground and she felt the pace of her breath quicken slightly. "I - you're still asleep, clearly. We were just talking about…" she straightened her shoulders and then cleared her throat. "The old gods."

He eyed her skeptically. "The old gods?" he asked, one eyebrow raised.

"Yes, this is a good place for that," she replied, still not meeting his eyes.

He took one of her hands, forcing her to look at him. "Rhae, you know how much I love Uncle Benjen. But you should not become...attached," he told her softly. "If he wasn't in the Night's Watch...but he is."

She gulped down the emotions she didn't understand but that were threatening to swell up all the same. It felt like what he was saying, what she was starting to _ feel _ , was all leading in a direction without a solution. And Rhaenys needed solutions in her life above all, she needed _ answers _. This was too much, so she forced herself to lighten the mood.

"Gods, you're being dramatic and over nothing," she told him with a smile, trying to sound carefree. "I told you, we were just talking, Jon." _ We were, weren't we? _She ruffled his hair before he swatted her away with a grin. "I shall leave you to your prayers, brother."

As she walked away, her gloved hands closed over the red leaf like a treasure to hide.

* * *

One of Sansa's maids had come to Rhaenys room to help her get ready for the feast. She hadn't worn a dress since the first few days she had arrived here, content with breeches since so much of the day was spent with Jon, Robb, Theon and Arya sparring or riding. It felt odd to dress up all of a sudden.

But then she started thinking of Benjen, and she found herself wanting to look nice for him. She shook her head. _ Stop it. What are you doing? _

"Are you alright, Your Grace?" the maid, Alia, asked.

She smiled at her weakly. "Yes, I just realized I've been dressing nearly like a boy since I've been here."

"Princess, I don't think you need to worry about lookin' like a woman. I think you're probably the most beautiful woman most of these men have ever seen," she chuckled." Save the Ladies Stark, of course," she added quickly.

Rhaenys didn't believe that but she appreciated her trying to assure her. "Thank you, Alia. Help me with my dress?" she asked earnestly. Alia nodded excitedly.

Her dress was a deep sea green color made of a light material and with the neckline cut into a V-shape. The sleeves were long and see-through, with thin gold leaves woven throughout them. Her mother had picked it out for her and wearing it made her miss her even more.

"How do you want to wear your hair, Princess?" Alia asked her, moving her braid slightly as she examined it.

Rhaenys fidgeted in the chair. "I don't know, truly. What do you think would look best?"

"If I may be so bold, I have not seen you wear your hair down while you've been here - and it's quite beautiful. Might I have a try at it down?" she asked with raised eyebrows.

Rhaenys nodded, though hesitantly. She liked to wear her hair in a braid - it was a comfort to her, but also a way of feeling in control somehow. She only wore her hair down at night when she felt like she could let herself just be.

Alia brushed through her thick hair and then wove two delicate braids that she circled around Rhaenys's head. Then she placed just a bit of charcoal pencil under Rhaenys's eyes and told the princess to pinch her cheeks to give them just a bit of pink. Just as they finished, there was a knock on the door, and and Rhaenys beckoned her guest in.

Jon entered then and had a look of shock on his face when he saw her. All of a sudden she was nervous. _ Was it too much? Too little? _

"Do I look that bad?" she sighed, fidgeting slightly.

Then he looked even more shocked. "Rhae," he breathed, "you look gorgeous."

"Truly?" she asked hesitantly.

He walked over to her and gave her his arm to escort her out. "Truly."

She looked to Alia who smoothed her hair once more before giving her a smile and a nod of approval. "Thank you, Alia."

They walked out and towards the Great Hall. The music was getting louder as they approached when Jon leaned over to her. "You ready?" he asked as they walked through the doors.

The Great Hall was warm with the low light of torches painting stones and faces in shades of orange and amber. Laughter, music, wine and a few bawdy jokes mingled in the air. Couples and children twirled around the dance floor to traditional northern songs and the occasional southern tune droning on about a majestic knight.

On the main dais, Ned and Catelyn were seated along with Benjen the children sat at a table just below. They watched in amusement, laughing as they surveyed the pack: Sansa seemed to be immersed in a serious discussion with Jeyne Poole, every so often gesturing to the stitching of her dress; Bran and Rickon were weaving their way through the tables chasing each other; and Arya was bouncing around Robb, every so often showing him a defensive stance with an invisible weapon. All of a sudden, the little wolf darted away, yelling in excitement.

He watched as she crashed into Jon...and Rhaenys. His breath hitched when he saw her. Tonight she had replaced her breeches and tunics for a dress that hugged her form before flowing out. Her hair that was normally bound away in a braid or tie was roaming free and wild, dark waves cascading around her.

His eyes refused to leave her.

With his gaze remaining on the Princess, he began to reflect on this visit home. His time in Winterfell had not been what he expected. He felt like somehow he and Rhaenys had come to know each other well in a small amount of time, and it made the days feel fuller somehow. It was a strange sensation, and he didn't know what to make of it.

As the feast progressed, she danced with Jon once and then with Lord Cerwyn's son. He seemed to be the only other person with the nerve to ask the Targaryen Princess for a dance. Then she eventually joined Robb for a dance at his invitation.

"So, how many times has Jon suggested to you we make a match?" Robb inquired with a knowing smile.

Rhaenys balked, her mouth agape slightly. "I - I," she stammered. "He's said the same to you?" she asked incredulously.

"A few times. He doesn't always know when to give up, my cousin."

"No," she concurred in mild amusement. "He does not."

"Even if it is clear that it would perhaps not be a match you want," he teased.

"No, it's not that!" she tried to protest.

A look of concern and apology took over his face. "Do not worry, I take no offense," he soothed softly. "I've known for a long time I'd need to marry someone of the North. Though I would be lying if I said it wouldn't be an honor to be blessed with your affections," he admitted, his eyes twinkling with humor.

She let out an exasperated laugh. "Gods, but you are charming," she commented.

"Though perhaps not enough?" he asked with a warm smile. Seeing her smile falter slightly, he gave her a comforting look. "A jest, Princess, I promise. Whoever the man is that earns your heart will be a lucky one though," he told her.

She laughed at the compliment and as they turned, her gaze landed on the dais - and Benjen. Rickon had been sitting on his lap and then jumped off, running after Bran. Benjen was laughing as he watched his two young nephews, the orange hues of torches in the hall dancing on his face and heightening the blue of his eyes. Then his gaze moved from the two boys through the dance floor. When his eyes met hers, she could see something shift in them. Rhaenys sent him a small smile which he returned, his gaze more intense than she'd seen before. And then their eyes remained, holding the other like a vise.

Eventually Rhaenys dragged Jon from the table to dance with her. Benjen could hear her saying something about besting him in a Northern dance. As they moved around the floor, she laughed as she tried to mimic what Jon was showing her, though failing. Then they sat back down at their table, as servants poured them some wine.

"It's been nice to have him here again," Ned said, drawing Benjen out of his thoughts.

"Hmm? Oh, yes," he replied, his daze broken. A sad smile crossed his lips. "Having this time with him has been a gift - with all of them. And I'm grateful to be able to show him the Wall."

"I'll keep an eye on the Princess while we're there, you don't have to worry. I'm sorry I didn't warn you about that," his brother said.

Benjen paused in thought, taking a sip of the sweet summer wine. "I was worried when Jon first told me - annoyed, really. But I've spent some time with her since, and...I think it shall be fine." He didn't really know what else to say - it was the truth after all. But he caught himself thinking that he did not want Ned to think he was too complimentary to her. _Why would that matter? What would be wrong with that?_ he wondered.

"You've seemed different this visit, Ben," Ned remarked, studying his younger brother.

Benjen blinked at him, confused. "What do you mean 'different?'"

"Not bad. I mean...happier," he answered. "It's good, I'm glad to see this change in you."

A half smile appeared across Benjen's face. "Just the effect of the children, I suppose," the First Ranger said softly. "They tend to do that."

A fond warmth took over Ned's face. "That they do. That must be it," he said, still studying his brother.

It was at the moment that Jon and Rhaenys approached them. Jon moved to take the empty seat next to Ned. But Rhaenys had stopped in front of Benjen, still standing before she extended her hand with an open palm. She had a bold, though flushed, look on her face, and he had a feeling that she and Jon had been in their cups a bit.

"Benjen, I must insist on you joining me on the dance floor. I seek it as payment for your initial assumptions of my being a soft southerner," she said sternly but could not hide the smile that flashed over her face. Jon gave her a disapproving look, but she ignored him.

Ned chuckled next to Benjen who looked back at Rhaenys slightly agape. "I - I am not being modest when I say I'm not a good dancer. Ned can tell you - I'll crush your feet."

The lord of Winterfell smiled wolfishly and gave his younger brother a strong clap on the back. "Your grace, I can assure you - my brother is quite capable. I know he will do House Stark proud."

Rhaenys looked back to Benjen with her chin tilted up, a smile of victory spreading across her face, while Jon closed his eyes and took a long sip of ale. Benjen let out a deep sigh, shooting his brother a stern look before looking back to Rhaenys. "As you command, Princess," he said taking her hand as he got up.

As they began to dance, Rhaenys let out a small chuckle. "You're already enjoyin' this way too much," he grumbled.

"Yes, I suppose I am. Though would it really have troubled you so much to dance with some of the ladies here tonight?" she said, nodding her head towards a group of young women sitting at a table. "Surely you've noticed the way they all look at you?"

Benjen blushed. "Ah! Now who is a delicate southern flower?" she inquired teasingly, raising one eyebrow at him. "Dancing is quite harmless, First Ranger."

"You know, you haven't exactly been out here commanding the floor tonight, Your Grace," he replied dryly.

"I danced with Robb, Jon and the Cerwyn man," she shot back in false indignation before giving a look around the room. "Perhaps these Northern men are scared of me."

He let out a bark of laughter. "Perhaps they don't know what to make of you." He gazed down at her as they danced around the floor, weaving through the other couples. 

"And you, Benjen? What do you make of me?" she dared, looking up at him with curiosity and a warm smile. As they gazed at each other, she could see a calm storm in his eyes. Perhaps in nervousness - or something else - her hand wanted to toy with his dark hair, but she did not let it.

"I think that the wine has made you bolder than usual tonight," he replied smiling. And then before she knew it, she felt his hands grip her waist tightly and raise her up, drawing a gasp from her. As she looked at the other couples around them doing the same, Benjen began to spin them and Rhaenys let out a bright laugh of surprise.

It was the sweetest sound he'd ever heard.

From the dais, Jon watched his sister and uncle dance together and was struck by the complete and unadulterated joy radiating from them both. Rhaenys was positively lit up as Benjen brought her into the air a second time and she smiled down at him, laughing. His uncle looked just as happy as her, and Jon wondered what they could possibly be thinking.

"So," a voice broke into his thoughts from next to him, "you've noticed this particularly ill-fated dance then." Tyrion pulled out the chair on the other side of Jon and took a seat, wine in hand.

Jon looked at him with concern before turning his eyes back to the floor. "I don't know what you're talking about," he muttered, his hands wringing around his mug.

Tyrion laughed at his denial. "Ah, but you do. Otherwise why do you look so hopeless, my prince? It's because you've acknowledged what your sister refuses to."

Jon closed his eyes and took a deep sip of ale. "I don't know what she's thinking, she's normally so logical," he lamented, letting out a deep sigh as he put his mug back on the table.

Tyrion turned his eyes to the couple. "The heart is rarely logical, if ever." He sloshed the wine in his cup around before taking a drink. "They're a handsome couple, I'll give them that."

"You read a lot," Jon said as he turned to Tyrion with a desperate look in his eyes. "Is there a way for him to leave the Watch - lawfully?"

The Lannister lord answered him first with a sympathetic look before replying. "Even if there were...I don't know your uncle that well, but tell me, Jon - does he strike you as the kind of man to leave even if he were allowed to?"

The prince's shoulders slumped as he turned to look upon his cherished relatives, a swirl of love and despair mixing throughout him. "I've never seen her look so happy," Jon observed quietly with a sad smile. "Have you?"

An equally sad smile crossed the imp's face. "I think you are correct. It's unfortunate it shall not..._ cannot _...last," Tyrion replied wistfully.

Back amidst the dancing couples, Rhaenys held onto Benjen's shoulders as he brought her to the floor, the black velvet of his doublet soft beneath her fingers. "You seem to know what you are doing," she said in a breath when her feet were back on the ground, their bodies closer now.

"I learned some as a boy from my mother before she passed - though I never could do that lift bit quite right," he told her with a fond look on his face. "I supposed it stayed with me after all."

"Well, you have not hurt me as you claimed you would," she testified.

"And I'll try not to," he replied.

It was nearly a promise.

The noise of the hall seemed to have fade away, only a blur around them now and as they both laughed, their bodies remained close as they gazed at the other. Rhaenys smelled of citrus, fresh and bright, and a flush of rose had taken over her olive cheeks, perhaps from the wine, giving her a glow that made her eyes brighter. A tendril of dark hair had escaped one of the delicate braids around her head and was brushing her cheek, grazing her pillowy lips that had a faint stain of red from the wine. Benjen felt like hand had a mind of its own, wanting to reach out and mimic the actions of that piece of hair.

He felt warmer than he had in years and he wondered if it was because of all the bodies around them - or because she was so close to him.

"Benjen," Rhaenys said softly, drawing him out of his thoughts. All the playfulness that had filled her voice before was now gone. The princess looked down for a moment, before looking back up at him worrying her lower lip slightly. _ Gods, I wish she wouldn't do that_, Benjen thought in a heated rush. "I hope you know how much this trip to the Wall means to me. I will make sure to not be a burden during our journey and while we are there. I would never want to do that...to you."

Her eyes were wide and painfully earnest. The deep indigo of them and the darkness of her hair that draped her face somehow reminded him of the sky above the Haunted Forest after a storm. Like those skies, he felt like he could stare into them until he died and never feel such a buzz of life and peace at once.

And the fact that thoughts like these - of her eyes, her hair, a desire to stroke her face - were crossing his mind, and in such quick succession, snapped him back to reality. He dropped his hands from her, trying to smooth his emotions.

"I - we leave early tomorrow morn and I think I should probably rest. It'll be the last comfortable bed we have til the Wall," he said quickly as he stepped back from her, clasping his hands behind his back. The music seemed to roar back around them then as others continued to dance around the circle of the floor, and it felt like a harsh cold breeze had swept through the large space between their bodies. Benjen hoped no one was watching them, and he didn't know why.

Confusion marred her face. He hated he'd done that - _ her face was perfect. _ "Of course, that's quite sensible," she said nervously, tucking the rebellious hair he'd admired before behind her ear. "Thank you for the dance, Benjen." She looked at him for a few moments more, searching his face for an answer as to why he seemed so cold all of a sudden - but finding none. "I hope the night brings you peace." She gave him a single nod of acknowledgment and moved to disappear into the crowds of dancers.

As he watched her drift away, he felt himself split apart. One part was eased - he no longer had to feel like he was fighting to contain his emotions; but the other part - oh, the other part of him felt like it had crashed onto the dance floor and broken into pieces watching her walk away.

When he turned to walk back to the table to say goodnight to Ned, he saw that his older brother's eyes were already trained on him, with a look of surprise - and concern.

Benjen stopped in his tracks and fled the hall to his room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So - what do you think of Benjen and Rhaenys? I'm gauging whether I continue this fic or not, so I'd love to know your thoughts on this rarest of pairs after this chapter


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time, no see! Short update with longer ones to come soon. I guess I just needed to be quarantined to write something. Though fair warning - this is a short but slightly dark chapter. Dunno where this came from, I guess global pandemic has got me feelin' extra angsty

_ There was a fire burning in the hearth, but there was no warmth to be felt in the room. The flames may as well have been blue icicles. _

_ Rhaegar walked slowly through the room, trying to make sense of the space that he seemed to know. It is my room, he thought to himself. But yet it was different somehow. _

_ “Hello,” a small voice said from behind him. _

_ Whirling around, Rhaegar saw his daughter before him. Young, tiny. No more than three namedays. She wore a bedgown, her favorite one. The pale blue silk clashed so perfectly against her bronze skin and dark hair. _

_ “Why are you here?” she asked as she moved around the room gingerly, her small, bare feet delicate against the marble stones. One hand moved through the air as though it were floating underwater. _

_ “Rhaenys...you...you should be in bed, my little dragon,” he instructed her carefully, hoping to mask his own confusion. _

_ She stopped walking and looked around the room thoughtfully before her eyes landed on him. “The dead do not sleep.” _

_ He felt like stones were in his lungs, his breath coming to a sudden halt. Her voice was that of a child, but her words and what lay behind them were aged greatly with betrayal. _

_ “You are not dead, my sweet,” he whispered hoarsely. _

_ “You did not come in time. Though I waited.” She tilted her head to the side, studying him. “I did wait for you, you know.” _

_ “No! I - I came back, I promise!” he exclaimed, moving to her quickly to pick her up, but in a flash she evaporated. He gasped, spinning, dizzy, trying to find her. And then her voice came back. _

_ “It’s so cold here,” she marveled. She was by the bed now, inspecting it, her eyes cast downward to the space beneath the frame. A black kitten walked in place by her, stalking like a panther. “Was it warm in Dorne?” she asked with genuine curiosity. “When you went there without us?” _

_ He wanted to answer, but what was there to say? Even if he could find the words, they would have dried up as soon as the sight before him began to change. _

_ Blood began to bloom in the pale blue of his daughter’s gown. Rhaenys looked down at her stomach, watching calmly as violent crimson began to overtake the pastel peace. _

_ “Not much for a song,” she pondered as the blood spread. _

_ Rhaegar could not move, no matter how much he fought. He was locked in place, his feet tied to the cold stones of ice below him. _

_ Rhaenys eyes moved from her stomach to meet her father’s gaze. Indigo on indigo. _

_ “Is this what you wanted?” she whispered. _

_ “No!!! Please!!” he shouted, trying to get to her. _

_ “Rhaegar?” a soothing voice pierced the cold air of the room, like the sun driving away the snow. _

_ “Elia!” he called out desperately. “Rhaenys!” _

_ “Rhaegar…” she called out once more, but he could not see his wife. All he could see was their daughter as she fell to the ground and blood cloaked her body. Her eyes of indigo rolled back into her head and then her lids shut, stilling. _

_ “RHAENYS!” _

He woke with a strangled cry and his daughter’s name on his lips. Sweat poured down his face, cold and slick against his skin. 

He panted, trying to find his breath. Gradually, he could feel his senses start coming back to him. He realized there was a warm hand on his cheek and as his eyes began to find focus, he saw Elia looking at him, her eyes wide with concern. 

“Rhaegar,” she said gently. His eyes locked onto hers, grasping for this reality. “You were calling out for Rhaenys.” 

“I...she,” he clasped one of his hands over hers, pressing it into his face, as he closed his eyes and tried to make the last image of the nightmare leave him. But it was burned into his mind. 

This was not the first time he’d seen this image. In fact, he had seen it many times in the years since the war. 

“It was a nightmare, that’s all.”

For him, it was a nightmare he had never seen in this life. But Elia had seen it - not to the end that his dreams took him to, but close enough. Too close. How could he burden her with what he saw when she already knew it for herself? 

Studying him for a few moments, Elia then brought her other hand to his face, brushing away some of the silver locks that clung to his sweaty skin. 

“What did you dream,” she asked quietly. Perhaps she already knew. 

He shook his head, swallowing away the dread in him. “It’s...It’s best to leave it where it is, in a land of sleep - not here with us.” 

She looked at him intently, analyzing him before seemingly acquiescing to his last statement. “Stay here,” she murmured and moved to leave the bed. When her hands left his face, he felt a chill on his cheeks. He watched as she left the bedroom for the connecting rooms, only for her to return with a small bowl of water and a cloth. Sitting down on the side of the bed, she placed the bowl on a side table and after wetting the cloth so it was damp, she brought it to his face. Her hand moved gently across his forehead then to each cheek, wiping away the remnants of sweat and fear. 

Rhaegar closed his eyes, leaning into her touch. He wondered if she would want to care for him like this if she knew what had crossed his dreams. 

“Truly, you do not seem well, perhaps you should rest more,” she offered quietly. 

He shook his head steadily, his eyes still closed. “No, there is much work to do.” There wasn’t really, not today. But he did not want to tempt the gods - if he were to go to sleep again, would they send him more cursed visions now? 

She dabbed lightly at his face and then his neck before placing the cloth in the bowl. His eyes were cast down, focused on drops of water that had created dark stains on her white cotton nightshift. She was about to rise until Rhaegar grasped her arm closest to him. 

“Stay for a moment - please,” he whispered, desperate. Elia turned to look at him, eyeing him both with a question and concern in her eyes. Then before she knew it, he had rested his head against her chest, taking deep breaths as he pressed his body closer, enveloping her with his arms. 

She closed her eyes too, trying not to imagine what he had dreamed, and he clasped onto the pulse radiating from her, the beat of life that might erase the death that echoed in his brain. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back with our rarepair soon!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter was super short, so here's a bit more

She awoke early again.

_Last night was like a dream_, Rhaenys thought to herself as she stared up at the ceiling.

As her hand fidgeted with the collar of her bedgown, she tried to push past the thoughts of _him_. Perhaps this was just how it felt to finally let someone in - _a friend_, she assured herself. She had never truly let herself be close to anyone other than her family. It was hard to trust people in the capital, and she could not afford to let herself be vulnerable to those who would try to exploit the weaknesses she knew lay within her.

But during her time in Winterfell, her walls had started to come down. First with Arya.

Then with Benjen. And with him, her walls seemed to have come crashing down. Gods, but she loved talking to him. She never imagined it could feel so freeing to open herself up like that. _A friend,_ t_hat's what he is, yes._

But then her thoughts turned to how it felt when he held her as they danced, his hands on her and their bodies so close. The deep timbre of his laughter and the warm smile on his lips as they gazed at the other.

She pushed herself up from the bed quickly, shaking her head and trying to steady her breath. Closing her eyes, she exhaled slowly and tried to empty away those thoughts; to erase the butterflies that flitted in her stomach and made her body feel warm.

As she opened her eyes, she turned her head to the window to look outside and wondered what the trip North would bring.

* * *

The sun was just starting to rise when Benjen heard the stable door creak open as he finished strapping the saddle on his horse. He knew who it was without having to look up.

"All set then?" Ned asked. He walked over and gave the horse a few soft pats on its neck.

Benjen gave the saddle one last tug to secure it. "If the weather holds up, we should make good time to the Wall even with the size of the party. You?"

"Aye, I'll have my horse brought out after we break our fast," Ned replied, stroking the horse gently. "You been up for awhile?"

Benjen gave him a slow nod, his eyes fixed on the saddle and away from his brother.

Walking to the other side of the horse, Ned turned so he was facing his little brother. "Ben…" he finally said quietly. "I need to ask you something."

Benjen didn't look up, moving instead to fiddle with the saddle again. The silence continued, and even the wind had stilled as though it was holding its breath. "I'm waiting for a question, Ned. You said you wanted to ask me something," he said gruffly.

The silence resumed until Ned finally spoke again. "Last night at the feast, you and the Princess...the way you were looking at her, Ben. I - I've never seen you look at anyone like that."

Benjen kept his eyes on the saddle. "Do you think anyone else noticed," he asked quietly.

"I don't believe so, but I don't really care about other people. I'm more concerned about you."

He looked up at Ned then. "What do you want me to say, Ned? You needn't worry, I'm not going to go breaking my vows." Drops of frustration had found their way into his voice now before he let out a short, bitter laugh. "And even if I didn't take my oath seriously, I don't think you need to worry about a princess ruining her future for a pathetic ranger."

His older brother's face fell as something - most likely pity - washed over his eyes. "I'm not worried about you breaking your vows, you stubborn pup. I just wanted to make sure you were alright and see if maybe you wanted to speak about it."

Benjen closed his eyes, letting out a deep breath. He didn't even know where to begin. "I thought I knew what joining the Watch meant, what I'd have to give up. And for many years now, seeing the children here, Jon too, it felt like that was enough - beautiful, kind nephews and nieces. And I had - _have_ \- a purpose with the Watch. It's helped me forget the past." He took another deep breath, keeping his eyes shut tight. "But this last visit - meeting her - all of a sudden I -" He stopped himself. _What am I doing? Why speak about this, about her?_ He didn't even know what he was feeling, and this wouldn't help anything.

He opened his eyes, but looked away from his brother, his gaze lost towards what lay outside the door. "It doesn't matter, Ned. Leave it, it means nothing," he finished quietly.

Ned sighed, moving around the horse to face Benjen. "It _does_ matter," he told him, placing a hand on his shoulder, forcing Benjen to look at him. "But I won't force you to speak about it if you don't want." Benjen placed a hand over Ned's on his shoulder, giving him a weak smile.

"Not sure I would have pushed you into that dance if I'd known," Ned said with a light but sad laugh.

Benjen looked away again then. "I don't think I realized until we were dancing," he said somberly. "Or at least, last night was the first time I admitted it to myself." Perhaps he had known since that night in the library. "I tried to tell myself we were only becoming closer perhaps just as...friends." He let out a heavy sigh, pained.

Ned looked at his little brother intently. "It's a long journey to the Wall," he warned softly. "And she and Jon will be there for a good while. You'll need to be careful, Ben."

Benjen looked at his older brother and gave him a somber but quick nod before Ned pulled him into a tight embrace, holding him close. "Guard yourself - and your heart, pup," Ned told him quietly. Benjen swallowed the emotions welling up before pulling back to look at Ned. He gave his older brother a small smile of acknowledgement before moving to guide his horse towards the stable door.

"I'll see you out there," Ned called out, his mind swirling and consuming him before he even thought through the words he spoke next. "Benjen!" The ranger turned around to look back at Ned, shoulders still heavy with emotion. "I - I saw the way she looked at you last night too - there was something there. If that makes you feel better."

Benjen gazed at him sadly. "Somehow it makes it worse, brother."

* * *

They had all assembled in the courtyard to say their goodbyes. Robb was still a bit upset that he was not going to the Wall as well, but Lord Stark had insisted on him staying here to learn how to look after Winterfell without him. Rhaenys had thought perhaps they might come back here after Castle Black, but Tyrion had arranged for a ship to take them all the way back to the capital from Eastwatch-by-the-Sea. And so it was time to say farewell - and one person took it harder than the rest.

"Why can't I come with you? Why don't you stay longer?" Arya asked Rhaenys angrily.

Rhaenys bent down on one knee to sit a bit lower than her before taking Arya's hand in her own. "Who better to defend this castle than you, my fierce warrior?" Rhaenys asked her with a sad smile. "And I know you and I will see each other again soon. Have you already forgotten your future trip to Dorne?"

Arya's eyes widened as she shook her head frantically. "No! I haven't forgotten, I promise! I will come to Dorne! Nymeria too!"

Rhaenys smiled at her. "Don't forget to practice with the spear, your Mikken has created quite a beautiful one for you." Arya grinned widely at her, thinking of the new weapon made just for her. The Princess looked at the small girl before her, wondering at how close they had become - and then questioning when they might see each other again. Trying to battle away the sadness starting to creep up on her, she placed a hand on Arya's cheek. "I will miss you, do you know that?"

Arya tossed herself at Rhaenys, throwing her arms around her neck tightly and closing her eyes. "Don't go," she whispered.

"We shall see each other again, I know it," Rhaenys whispered back, holding the small girl closely as she felt the wetness of her tears pooling by her chin that rested on Arya's shoulder. Finally she reluctantly let her go.

Jon finished saying goodbye as well as Rhaenys mounted her horse, wiping away the tears that stained her cheeks. Once she was settled she looked up to the head of their group and saw Benjen who seemed to be watching her. In an instant, his eyes were gone and she somehow felt the absence like a wave of cold water crashing over her.

They rode hard the first week on the road to Castle Black, only resting to sleep. There were a few rudimentary inns along the way, enough to keep the cold away at night, as well as a few holdfasts. Tyrion was not happy about it at all but knew he could not complain when he was the one who insisted on pissing off the edge of the Wall. When they turned in for the evening, Benjen either spoke directly to Lord Stark or Jon and then went to sleep.

It seemed like there was never a chance to speak with each other as they had done so often at Winterfell. And she felt the absence of it with each day they traveled. It was difficult to push away the thoughts that made her long for the opportunity to speak with him again.

After the first week, the inns and holdfasts were no more and as the mountains came into sight along the east, they decided to end the day earlier. It would give the horses more time to rest, as well as themselves, and time to make camp. That night she found Benjen by the fire alone. The guards were on patrol and Ser Oswell seemed to make time to entertain Tyrion - most likely to enjoy his wine. Jon and Lord Stark were engaged in a mild sparring session in an effort to stretch their limbs from riding.

Ghost had latched himself to her, she believed at Jon's request - her own guard since she was the only one who wasn't sharing a tent with someone else. With the rest of the party seemingly occupied, she decided to make her way to the fire then, Ghost trotting along. Dawn was lying at Benjen's feet and when she saw Rhaenys and Ghost approach, she did not raise her head but her tail began to thump against the ground.

"Hello, Dawn," she said, looking at the large wolf before turning her eyes up. "Hello, Benjen," she greeted him with a hopeful smile as she took a seat on a rock near the flames. Ghost turned in a few circles before lying down at her feet.

Benjen gave her a nod before looking into the fire, his face tight. "Your Grace."

She watched him for a moment before glancing down, feeling incredibly awkward all of a sudden. His demeanor was much changed from when they were at Winterfell, but she didn't know why. After a long swell of silence, she finally mustered enough courage to speak again. "Are you well? You seem very quiet." She stroked Ghost behind the ears and the direwolf happily leaned into her hands. "And we have not had much chance to speak since we left Winterfell," she added softly, nervously.

Keeping his eyes fixed on the fire, he did not meet her gaze when he finally answered. "Just tired, that's all," he offered though tersely.

She nodded hesitantly in understanding - though she didn't _really_ understand. She knew she shouldn't care that he did not seem to want to talk with her - or even be around her. But she _did _care. And seeing and feeling his coldness towards her made her stomach twist and contort in anguish and confusion.

Perhaps sensing her turmoil, Ghost got up and placed his head in her lap, pushing into her. She let out a small laugh as she bent down to hug the white beast. "Mmm, are you trying to warm me, my friend? Or are you ready to sleep?" Benjen's eyes lifted from the flames to her, watching as she rested her head on the wolf, humming into his soft white fur. Her hair and skin were a beautiful, sharp contrast against the white blanket. At that moment, all he wanted to do was to go to her_._

It was then that Rhaenys's eyes moved up from the wolf to Benjen, and the question and hurt in them were clear as day. The princess and the ranger stared at each other for a few moments before Rhaenys finally shifted. "Come Ghost, let us leave the First Ranger to his thoughts," she told the wolf as she patted his head and rose from her rocky seat. Without a glance at him, she said goodnight to Benjen in a whisper as she and the white wolf walked to her small tent.

Dawn let out a small whine, and then rose from the ground to look at Benjen. Her golden eyes seemed to pierce him - as though she were trying to make sense of him. Then she let out a huff through her nostrils and trotted away into the forest.

Benjen closed his eyes tightly, trying to remind himself that this was the only way. He just had to push away the feelings - he was good at that, after all. It was a skill he had honed to near perfection since the end of the war.

And so if he could push the feelings away, the ones that had started to seep into him as thick as weirwood sap - if he could push them away until Rhaenys left from the Wall, everything would be fine.

Until then, it would be torture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drop a comment (and kudos) and let me know what you think


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Umbers make an appearance - and avoiding feelings starts to cause some tension

* * *

Not for the first time, Tyrion wondered if he had made a mistake in insisting on joining this Northern escapade. At the end of each day, it felt like his legs had been beaten by a giant, and the cold seeped deeper into his bones.

As they made their way north, they were joined by one of Benjen's black brothers, a man by the name of Yoren, and two young men he was bringing to the Wall. A wide smile crossed Benjen's face when he greeted the older man, pulling him into a collegial embrace.

"Who have we got here?" Benjen asked, as he pulled his saddle off his horse for the night.

"Rapers," Yoren muttered, though he didn't seem remotely phased by that fact.

Rhaenys was tying up her horse at that moment, but was close enough to hear. She instinctively drew closer to Ghost as a chill and burst of fury ran through her.

Aemon had told her the Watch lacked good men. Benjen had even said it when he tried to explain why he didn't think she should come. _ That was back when he actually talked to me _, she thought eyeing him as he introduced Yoren to the others.

As they made camp that night with the new additions, Tyrion seemed to find an easy companion in Yoren, despite his slightly pungent scent. The older man was blunt but also good-natured and easy going. And despite being a black brother, he was nowhere near as grim as Benjen Stark.

The Lannister Lord had tried to puzzle out what had clearly enthralled the Princess about the ranger. Tyrion was a dwarf, not blind - he could see the man was handsome. But that had never been enough to entrance Rhaenys with others, especially those that had tried to win her over. But whatever had transpired between the two at Winterfell seemed to have evaporated on the road. They'd barely exchanged more than a handful of words on the journey so far.

Rhaenys had thought perhaps the coldness she had experienced was temporary, a bad mood perhaps. But he had not relented in avoiding her. Any time she had tried to speak with him whether alone or with others, he exited the conversation within moments it seemed. It was something she could not stand - not being able to understand why something was the way it was.

But more than that, she found herself angered by the loss of someone she had grown close to. As she and Jon sparred that night at camp, she tried to vanquish her frustrations.

_ I opened myself to Benjen, _she thought to herself as she and Jon began to trade easy blows.

_ I told him some of my deepest feelings - my weaknesses. And he did the same. _

She advanced on her brother with a few quick steps and two strikes against his own sparring sword, which Jon parried.

_ We spoke to each other with such honesty. And now it was like it had never happened. _

Huffing, she continued her spar with Jon, twirling with the grace of a Braavosi but the strength and fury of a man twice her size as she blocked her brother's strikes so fiercely, he stumbled backwards.

_ He acts as though we did not open ourselves up to the other. Why did he bother talking to me at all? _

Jon tried to regain his footing, but his sister was already moving again, though her eyes did not even seem focused on him.

_ Why did I let myself be vulnerable? Why? _she thought desperately.

Rhaenys growled and advanced on her brother once more, spinning around and striking from above. He thrust his sword upwards, just barely in time, with the strength of the blow forcing him to fall to the ground. Jon looked up at her, slightly startled at her aggressiveness.

"Gods, Rhae…" Jon muttered, his eyes wide. "It was just a training session."

"I…" she broke out of her daze then. She looked around and noticed the others watching them as well. "I'm sorry, I just got carried away, I suppose. Too much time riding." She looked down at the sparring sword before looking up and catching Benjen's eyes. He watched her with what seemed like a combination of trepidation and wonder. "I'm going to get ready for bed, I'll see you in the morning," Rhaenys told Jon finally, walking quickly to her tent, Ghost trailing after her.

Jon watched his sister go in a daze of confusion and slight worry. His eyes then turned to where his sister's had last fallen, catching his uncle's own gaze. Benjen met Jon's eyes and quickly looked away, almost wincing it seemed.

It was on the next day as they rode that they were stopped and greeted by riders along the Kingsroad who came from a path running east. They held a banner of what looked like a large man in chains. Rhaenys knew she should be able to identify the banner, but her brain could not be bothered to place it after so long on the road.

"Greetings, Lord Stark," one of the men said with a thick northern accent, slowing his horse as they approached their group. "Lord Umber sent us to greet you and escort you to the keep."

Lord Stark eased his own steed then. "Lord Umber is too kind, it was unnecessary but welcomed all the same."

_ Ah, House Umber. A giant breaking its chains. _ Rhaenys had not expected to meet another Northern lord on this trip. They'd been greeted and housed by the Manderlys in White Harbor and met the Cerwyns when they were in Winterfell. Both houses had been remarkably kind given the war and everything that came with it, but Rhaenys would be a liar if she said she was not nervous to meet the Umbers. Even if she became rather excited of the idea of a real bed and a bath in a keep for the night, she wondered if it was worth it for the tension they may encounter.

She gave Jon an anxious look. "It'll be fine," he muttered as he rode alongside her. "I think...Well, I met him once, and he was nice. A bit loud, but … nice," he said, nearly sounding like he was trying to convince himself.

As they came to the entrance of the Last Hearth, a looming and imposing structure, Rhaenys saw two of the largest humans she had ever seen in her life standing and waiting for them.

"Welcome to Last Hearth, Lord Stark," the older of the two large men called out.

Ned dismounted from his horse, along with Benjen, and approached the two men. Both bowed their heads before him as Ned greeted them in kind. "Lord Umber."

The man paused for a moment before breaking out into a booming laugh. "Ah, Ned!" Lord Umber said, pulling him into a hearty embrace. "It's good to see you!"

"And you Greatjon, it's been too long," he said with a laugh, though his voice was slightly muzzled against Lord Umber's chest. "You as well, Smalljon. Nearly as tall as your father now, eh?" he commented, greeting the younger lord with a hug as well.

"It's an honor to see you, Lord Stark," the younger Umber greeted.

"You really didn't have to do this," Ned said, turning to Lord Umber again, taking off his leather gloves. "We were planning on camping until we got to the wall."

"Nonsense!" the Greatjon insisted with thunder, clapping Ned on one shoulder and sending him to the side a few paces. "You haven't stayed here in years, least we can do is host you before you continue on." His eyes moved behind Lord Stark then. "Benjen, c'mere! Took your brother to get you to visit, did it?" he bellowed warmly.

Benjen strode to the Umber lords with an easy smile and then embraced the very tall lord. "It's usually just me, Greatjon, I'm just trying to spare you my company is all."

Then Lord Umber's eyes moved to Rhaenys and Jon. "This one," he said, his tone more serious now as he pointed his finger to Jon, "I know."

Rhaenys glanced sideways to her brother, as everyone else quieted.

His face eased then. "Got a good name, he does," Lord Umber barked and started laughing loudly. "Good to see you, lad," he continued warmly.

Letting out a shaky laugh, Rhaenys wondered if she was the only one who had been holding their breath right then.

"Lord Umber, this is Princess Rhaenys," Lord Stark said, introducing her. The two lords both gave her courteous bows - they were still taller than her when they did that, of course. "And she's visiting the North for the first time, so be gentle," he mumbled as an aside.

"I'm heartier than I look, Lord Stark, I promise," she mustered with a smile, not wanting to appear meek or frail. "Thank you for welcoming my brother and I, Lord Umber."

Her attempt at confidence apparently was not entirely convincing.

"No need to worry Princess, this isn't the Dreadfort!" Lord Umber bellowed. She responded with an apprehensive laugh as her large eyes darted to Jon. 

"Alright, in with ya then! It may be just a summer snow, but I don't want to be accused of freezing you lot to death!" he said, clapping Ned on the back again to lead them into Last Hearth.

"See, just a bit loud," Jon said quietly to Rhaenys as he gave her his arm to go inside.

She let out an anxious breath and just tried to think of the sleep she would claim that night in a proper bed.

* * *

After finding their chambers, she and Jon were taken to the Great Hall to join everyone for dinner. When they entered the large room, they were greeted by the smell of warm and delicious food - and by a deep voice singing of the Long Night and the Battle for the Dawn, it seemed. To her surprise, the lovely voice was none other than Lord Umber himself.

He finished the song to a chorus of cheer from the others. "Normally my Uncle blasts a horn when I get to the part about fighting the Others. Sends the hounds mad!" Umber roared with laughter.

"'The Night that Ended,' Greatjon?" Benjen asked Lord Umber with a knowing smile.

"Though it would be an appropriate tune to send you all off to the Wall," he concluded as he took his seat by Lord Stark at the end of the table.

Rhaenys and Jon must have still had a look of surprise on their face, because Lord Umber chose to address them then.

"I like to carry out a proper Northern tune, what can I say?" he said, laughing fiercely. "Looks can be deceiving, I suppose." Then he looked at her curiously. "Ned here tells me you know how to fight, Your Grace."

She glanced at Lord Stark who gave her a small smile. "Well," she began slightly nervous at the attention all of a sudden. "I'm half-Dornish, my lord. Many women learn to fight in Dorne. I'd rather not have others fight my battles."

That seemed to impress the Greatjon considerably, as well as his son who already did not seem to have any trepidations about the Princess. Benjen's back stiffened as he watched the young Umber lean over the table to speak with her.

"Hope you've enjoyed your time in the North so far, y'grace," Smalljon told her warmly.

"I have, truly," she replied, taking a sip of ale. "Everyone has been more welcoming. I think Jon and I both were not truly ready to leave Winterfell," she said with a smile, turning to her brother.

Jon put his arm around her as he took a sip of ale and began telling Smalljon about their stay so far, the Princess occasionally laughing next to him.

Benjen was glad to see her happy and it felt nice just to hear her talk about her visit. That speck of warmth turned cold quickly enough, as he thought about the distance he had put between them - that he _ needed _ to put between them. It was a strained gap at best though, for he missed speaking with her as they had grown accustomed to at Winterfell

He closed his eyes with a sigh and turned his attention to what was before him - his mug of ale. Tonight this liquid would be his comfort.

"The lands here are truly beautiful," he heard Rhaenys say. "I'm eager to see Castle Black and beyond the Wall."

Greatjon entered the conversation then. "You gonna take them beyond the Wall, Benjen? Into wildling lands?" the large lord asked loudly, clearly surprised.

The First Ranger tensed for a moment before exhaling slowly. "It depends on what the other rangers say," he replied to the Greatjon but it was Rhaenys he should have been answering too, he knew. "Might not be safe."

Rhaenys shot him a hurt look. She knew that was a possibility, but it did not make it easier to hear, especially when he was not even telling her directly.

"What's happening out there, Benjen?" the Greatjon asked gruffly. "Those savages are gettin' bolder and bolder, we're finding more of them on our lands every day, it feels like. My uncles are on patrol as we speak."

Ned and Benjen exchanged quick glances. "That's why I'm going there, Greatjon. Speak with the Lord Commander and get a better sense of things. It's why my nephew and the Princess have come as well," Ned told him.

Rhaenys thought of Lord Umber's song then and wanted to bring up the fact that there was a deserter of the Night Watch who spoke of the Others. _ It seems rather pertinent to the conversation. _ But she knew it wasn't her place over either Lord Stark or Benjen.

"I hope you know that the Crown takes the Night's Watch very seriously, my lord," she told him. She felt some need to make sure he knew she meant it and to know that they were not disliked here - even if their house deserved it. _ Always making up for their mistakes, _ she thought ruefully.

"Aye, your father has put money into the Watch, which I'm sure has been helpful. But it doesn't change the fact that they need more men." Then an apologetic expression washed over his face. "But we've got great admiration for The Watch, don't take my words for ill, Benjen," Lord Umber assured with a rumbling sincerity.

Benjen smiled as the large man, shaking his head. "You don't need to assure me, Greatjon. I know you feel it the worst here, more than anywhere else. And you're right, we do need more men, better men."

Tyrion chose that moment to insert himself. "I dare say it might be easier to recruit if men knew they could wet their cock every so often."

Rhaenys glared at Tyrion slightly, while Yoren snorted a laugh. "Thought it was fair knowledge that most of our brothers find one way or another around that bit. The comment earned Yoren a stern look from The First Ranger. 

"Save Benjen over here, that is," Yoren added with a hearty laugh. "And a few others like the Lord Commander and Maester Aemon o'course," he said as an afterthought.

"Never?" Tyrion asked, slightly incredulous.

Yoren clapped Benjen on the back. "Not this one. Will o' steel, he's got, will o'steel."

Benjen let out a groan, covering his face with his mug as he drained it of its ale. "Gods, look at 'im, blushin' like you're younger than your nephew there!"

"What're you gettin' bashful about now, Benjen?" Greatjon added in with amusement as he wiped away some ale from his beard. "I remember that maid who cornered you all those years back. One of the few times you've stopped here, when you were on your way to join the Watch. Don't think I've forgotten!"

Nearly every eye shifted to Benjen then, including Rhaenys. She could feel her stomach turning, like she'd eaten too much or too little, but she knew neither was the case.

"Gods, Greatjon, did you have to bring that up? T'was years ago, let it be," he mumbled. His eyes flitted to Rhaenys before moving to grab a flagon of ale and refill his mug. "It was before I said my vows," he added quietly.

"Way I heard it, she mooned over you for months!" Lord Umber roared. "Must've gotten over you, she finally wed one of my bannermen at some point."

Rhaenys watched as Lord Stark raised his eyebrows at his younger brother. She wondered if he was trying to make sense of this information as much as her - but she knew their reasons were different.

_ He's been with a woman. Here. _

She felt her pulse race suddenly and no longer wanted to be where she was. She wanted solitude, a bath, bed. Anything to find some calm from her thoughts rushing around her at that moment.

Picking up her mug of ale, she downed its contents and then turned to Jon. "I think I'm going to turn in for the night."

He shot her a questioning look. "Are you alright?" he asked quietly.

"I'm fine, just tired is all," she replied with a smile, though it was small and false. She hoped he couldn't tell.

"I'll be up soon," he replied, placing a hand on her shoulder and trying to make out what was going through her mind.

"No, no, stay, enjoy yourself. It seems like the conversation is turning its way to something better with a woman here as it is," she said with a laugh. Again, it was false.

Then she rose and turned her attention to Lord Umber. "I thought I might turn in for the night, my lord. I just wanted to thank you for the very entertaining evening. I feel exceptionally fortunate to experience your hospitality, truly," she said with deep sincerity.

He rose and gave a deep dip of his head towards her. "Princess, it has been our pleasure. I hope you rest well this eve." She smiled at him, then gave a quick round of goodbyes to the table before moving to leave the hall quickly. Ghost looked at Jon who nodded towards Rhaenys and the direwolf followed after her.

Once the Princess was gone, Smalljon let out a low whistle. "Could forgive the dragons if they all looked like her," he said with a chuckle and extra swig of ale. Benjen tried to ignore his comment, looking to his mug for comfort. "She truly know how to fight?" Smalljon asked.

Yoren scoffed. "Threw this one into the dirt yesterday," he answered with an amused smile and raised eyebrows, looking towards Jon.

The Umber men turned to look at the Prince for confirmation who merely grunted in acknowledgment. "She's trains as much as my brother and I do," he grumbled. "She's as good as any man."

Smalljon leaned back, shaking his head with a smile. "She can toss me into the dirt any day she likes." Jon rolled his eyes, trying to pretend he didn't hear.

All of a sudden, Benjen's mind went to when he had sparred with Rhaenys in Winterfell. Then to the mud he had wiped off her cheek that afternoon, it had nearly been a caress. Closing his eyes, the First Ranger took an even longer sip of ale, trying to banish those thoughts.

No one noticed his discomfort. Except Tyrion. And the wine mingling with his blood spurred him to poke the First Ranger.

"What might it take for Smalljon here to win her heart, my Prince?" Tyrion asked, looking to the dark-haired youth.

Jon glowered at him, wondering what he was prodding at. "You know very well, Lord Tyrion, that there is no script by which to win my sister."

"Hmm," Tyrion pondered. "I can't help wonder what man might be worthy enough to capture her attention." His eyes briefly flitted to Benjen - though the First Ranger's eyes were too focused on his mug to notice - before moving back to Jon.

"She doesn't think of those matters. She's too busy with...her studies and whatnot," he cobbled together as his reply. What he really wanted to do was ask the Lannister what in seven hells he was doing.

"Maybe she just needed to meet a proper Northman is all," the younger Umber lord laughed, straightening his shoulders proudly.

Tyrion grabbed his mug and raised it up. "I think you have the right of it, my lord," he said with a smirk. That seemed to get Benjen's attention. He shot the Lannister lord a look made of ice and steel that only broke when he was turned to conversation by Lord Umber.

* * *

After taking a bath and scrubbing away the long journey, Rhaenys perched in front of the fire, letting her hair get as close as possible without burning so the heat could dry her long locks. The smell of smoke would stick to her for a bit, but she didn't mind. She felt slightly lightheaded - a combination of the journey, lots of ale and a steaming bath. As she wove her fingers through her hair, she found herself wanting to read tonight, keep her mind occupied. Then she realized her satchel of books was with Jon.

Putting on her slippers, she opened the door and poked her head into the hallway. She and the others, save the two Watch recruits, were all housed in the guest chambers of the Keep. She wondered if she should call for a maid rather than wander about. But she supposed Jon's room couldn't be that far and with the others still carousing downstairs, she would not be seen.

"Come, Ghost," she beckoned to the white direwolf. "Show me the way to Jon's room, hmm?" Ghost leapt up and after exiting the room, began trotting through the hallways, turning a corner finally.

She had stopped for a moment to look at a portrait in the hallway before she returned to her path following the direwolf who had now disappeared. It was just as she was about to turn the corner that she heard a voice and then found herself crashing into another body. Her hands shot up, bracing herself against the person, looking up to find Benjen staring down at her in shock.

"Rh- Your Grace," he stammered, eyes wide. He glanced down towards her hands that had landed on his chest, before his eyes made their way back up slowly. She was wearing a soft, white night shift - one which the hallways torches seemed intent on shining through. Droplets of water glistened all along her skin, her neck, and her dark hair was unbound and damp. Finally his eyes made their way to hers. And for a moment, they just stared at each other.

She could see he was flushed and smelled a bit of ale on him and wondered at him drinking so. He hadn't done so once at Winterfell. He was devoid of his heavy black cloak and leather doublet, wearing only a wool tunic with his breeches, and she could swear she could feel his heart beat rapidly under that piece of cloth.

They were finally alone - now they could finally talk, she thought in a short swell of triumph. And yet when Rhaenys looked up at him, his gaze heavy and dark and having turned from shock to something she could not place; the way she could feel his chest below her hands - she found she had no words at all.

Just heat rising in her body.

Then in an instant, he seemed to startle and took a step back.

Ghost trotted back to Rhaenys then, nudging her hand. "I - I was looking for Jon," she managed to say finally. "Ghost was showing me where his room is."

Benjen cleared his throat, stumbling a bit as he backed away even more. "His chambers are just down here. But Jon is still downstairs."

"Ah," she said, straightening her shoulders. "I just need to get one of my bags from his room, no need to take him away from the festivities."

"I can retrieve it," he said quickly, moving to leave. _ I cannot be here. With her. _

"Did you mean what you said?" she called to him, stopping him in his tracks and forcing him to turn around to face her. "That we might not be able to go beyond the Wall?"

He looked so incredibly uncomfortable around her and she could not, for the life of her, understand why. "Truly, I do not know. It may not be safe, Princess," he told her softly.

She looked down for a moment as one hand fidgeted with the cloth of her nightgown. "But how am I to gain more information on what's happening there if we do not actually go out to see?"

"You'll be able to get reports from the other rangers there, from the Lord Commander," he tried to reason with her. The ale was still swirling throughout him, and it felt like his body and mind were battling each other as he looked at her. He wanted to soothe her, caress her face - make her understand that he didn't want to place her in danger. "You can get information from them," he said weakly.

She let out an exasperated breath, placing her hands on her hips. "That's not the same and you know it," she said quietly but sternly.

He almost found her stubbornness endearing - until she began to walk towards him, still talking about going beyond the Wall - though her words were a mere buzz to him. His eyes did not leave her, watching as the torches in the hall illuminated her lithe figure beneath the gown like a dark shadow and the white cloth swayed with her steps. She looked like some kind of vision sent to torment him.

_ How did I end up here with her like this? Gods! _He snapped himself out of his haze again. "I'll go to Jon's room and get your bag. You shouldn't be out here," he told her stiffly.

She stopped walking at his abrupt interjection, taken aback. "I can go myself," she finally said with an even tone, letting out a slow breath. "Come, Ghost." And with that she walked past him, the scent of smoke and citrus assailing his senses as her body brushed against his before she disappeared down the hall.

When she was out of sight, Benjen fell against the wall, bracing himself and trying to come back to his senses. Closing his eyes, he let out a shuttered breath.

_ Will of steel, _he thought mirthlessly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Greatjon and Smalljon Umber, and GoT did House Umber dirty. I don't think I necessarily did them justice in this snippet but at least I didn't assassinate Smalljon's character. In any case, that didn't come out how I really wanted it to but...I felt the need to do something during lockdown #stayhome


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of prophecies and promises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since it's been awhile since we did a full King's Landing check-in, you may want to reread Chapter 10 for a refresher

* * *

_Dear Egg, Mother and Father, _

_ All is well with us here in Winterfell. We shall leave for Castle Black tomorrow, but tonight Lady Stark shall hold a feast in our honor. It is hard to believe how quickly our time here has passed, it feels like we arrived only yesterday. _

_ If you were worried about Rhaenys, rest assured she is well. She and my cousin Arya have passed most of the afternoons together for spear lessons, and my little cousin has picked it up quickly. I wonder how either will bear the absence when we leave. Rhae has also talked my Uncle Benjen’s ears off with questions about the lands beyond the Wall. It has made me happy to see her get on with my family here. _

_ I’ve been told that the journey to the Wall shall take up to three weeks and while it is still summer, it will be colder than anything Rhae or I have ever known. Lady Stark had extra clothing made for Rhae, Tyrion and I to make sure we’ll be warm enough. _

_ We will write as soon as we arrive at Castle Black. _

_ Love, _

_ J _

_ Egg, are you riding Abrax every day? Is mother able to bear the sight? And I have not talked anyone’s ears off. I only do that with you, of course. _

_ We wish you were here with us, we miss you terribly. _

_ \- R _

Elia read the letter over for what must have been the fifth time at least, tracing her fingers over the single letters that marked each of their names. She felt nearly maudlin the longer the two of them were gone, and she wondered if this is how she would feel when they were inevitably married off. 

All of a sudden a strong gust of wind sailed past her, throwing her hair above her and nearly taking the letter with it before she tightened her grip. Pressing down on her gown to keep it from giving Ser Barristan a bit of a show, she looked up to see Abrax and Aegon making a loop around the Bay. She was in one of the largest parts of the garden, not far from where they had cleared part of the grounds so that the fast-growing dragon could land there. 

Perhaps she should have felt the overwhelming awe that everyone else in the capital felt, watching her silver and gold son spirit through the skies atop the majestic beast. But instead all she could feel was dread. 

She’d worried when Rhaenys found the dragon eggs a few years ago. 

She worried more when her daughter somehow managed to hatch them. 

_ I knew because I dreamt it _, Rhaenys had said so calmly at the time. The word “dreams” had sent a chill through Elia that she was not sure she would ever be rid of. 

And to say she worried when she saw Aegon riding his dragon would be an understatement. When Rhaegar had seen him for the first time, she saw a glint in his eye that had only become sharper since Rhaenys had found the eggs. 

Now here they were - Rhaenys at the wall chasing the gods knew what, Aegon riding Abrax as though he were his original namesake on the Black Dread. The blasted prophecy was supposed to be behind them and instead it felt like it was all that was staring her down from the future. 

* * *

_ Late 284, just after Lyanna’s death _

When Rhaegar walked into the nursery, the last sight he expected to see was Elia holding Jaehaerys, swaying him in her arms. 

“Elia...what are you doing here?” 

“I came to check on Aegon, and Jon was awake and fussing. I could not very well leave him alone, so I am as you find me.” There was no emotion in her voice. He missed the warmth that he used to be able to draw from her. "Daenerys is with your mother in her room." 

“Ah, well, I can...I can take him if you like,” he offered awkwardly. 

She raised an eyebrow at him. Rhaenys had been the only one he had ever been able to soothe, never the boys. “Jon is content with me, it’s fine.” Then she looked down at the babe and gave him a sad smile. “I’m sorry, little one. None of this is your fault and yet, here you are, without a mother,” she said with a sigh. 

Rhaegar watched her curiously. “You call him Jon, not his true name. Why?” 

She did not look at him but it was clear enough that she was not pleased with the question or having to answer it. “It was what his mother called him. Whatever my feelings were about Lyanna, the least I can do is call the child the name his mother wanted, Rhaegar.” Something he did not afford her, is what went unsaid. 

Silence followed before he broke it. “You seem quite sad about Lyanna’s passing.” 

She looked up from the babe then and her eyes were pure steel. “Should I rejoice, Rhaegar?” she whispered, not wanting to upset Jaehaerys or wake Aegon. “I won’t. I _ cannot _ . And yes, I _ am _ sad. The gods know she did not spare me or our children a thought when she ran away with you, but you bear more responsibility than her, make no mistake.” Jon began to stir a bit and so she stopped speaking for a moment to ease him back. He was playing with a piece of her long dark hair, eyes going from the locks in his hands to her face with a content smile. 

“You should have waited, Rhaegar,” she whispered like a plea. “She was so young and you got her with child again. And for what? A prophecy?? She barely survived his birth, I’m told. What about my experience or your mother’s did not teach you that women need time? Gods!” She closed her eyes tightly and turned away from him. 

She was sad for the child. But she was also sad for herself. She had finally found a piece of a happiness, albeit hidden and secret, with Jaime. And now what were they to do? 

Rhaegar looked away from her, ashamed. “I did not force her, do you truly think I did?” 

“No, that’s not what I meant,” she let out with a quiet groan. _ How does he always make it about him? _ “But she had no one here but you and this child, I’m sure she was trying to find some kind of happiness - some purpose - where she could. To try to make it so it was not all for naught - and yet, of course it was. As I said, you should have known better.” Then she fixed her eyes on him. “You are King - act like one.” 

Rhaegar looked away from her then. “It was supposed to be a girl...and yet, it was another boy. I don’t understand,” he whispered, staring blankly out the window. 

Elia stopped rocking the babe for a moment and looked at her husband in bewilderment. “I think I am more upset than you are that she passed. Did you even love her?” 

His head turned sharply to her but his eyes fell just as quickly to the ground. “I - yes. I mean, I think. It’s just that - how is the prophecy to be fulfilled, Elia?” 

That was all he could think about. _ Still _. 

She could feel her heart beating faster now, and so she looked down to the small babe in her arms who stared back up at her with curiosity. “I feel an odd kinship with you, little wolf.” Her voice was soft, but the apprehension, the realization that he was still so fixed on that prophecy still left an edge in her words. “Your father has pushed both of us into situations that were of his doing - and we must make of it what we can.” Then she looked up from Jon to Rhaegar, her eyes dark and cold. “All while you chase a prophecy to sate your own ambitions.” She resumed rocking Jon in her arms, turning away from her husband. “Should I expect you to find another wife, yet again?” 

He blinked at her incredulously. “How can you think that?” 

She scoffed, jolting slightly which led to a small whine of protest from Jon. “What else am I to think? All you’ve done has given me cause to believe you would indeed try something so foolish - and so insulting - again.” 

There was no way around that, no smart way to argue against her words - because they were true. 

“This small babe, this sweet babe - he could be the ruin of our son. Did you even think about that? When you chased your wolf girl and a murky prophecy? What will he think when he is old enough to realize that I am not the mother who brought him into this world? When he inevitably hears the whispers of him being a bastard? It is on me now to make sure our son - our half-Dornish prince - is not forced to fight for what is his. And I don’t know if it is better or worse that his mother is gone. It is what it is, and now I must make do with what you have placed on my shoulders.” 

His eyes tilted down towards the babe. “He is no Daemon.” Then he took a step towards her. “And Aegon will be King after me. I am not going to find another wife, Elia. I angered the Faith enough with…” He paused, unable to speak of what he had done, of what had passed. “I will not do that. I need the people to know I am stable, to see me as that.” His voice now was quiet desperation personified. “For you to see that.” 

Her back was toward him then so she did not see Rhaegar as he approached her, not realizing he was behind her until his hands were on her shoulders. She would have pulled away if she hadn’t been holding Jon. And when the King’s hands slowly drifted down to encircle her waist and pull her back into his body, there was naught that she could do. 

“Please, Elia. I will make this right. I promise you,” he whispered fervently, his head leaning into hers. “I need you to believe me, to believe _ in _ me. I don’t want to fail again.” He pulled her closer. “I need you.” 

She closed her eyes trying to shut herself off from him. “Then leave the prophecy behind you, Rhaegar. It will only bring ruin to us. The more you try to force something into your grasp, the quicker it will fall through your fingers.” Her voice had quieted then, but her words were both a prayer and a command. 

“Like sand,” he remarked in a hush. 

Elia tilted her head to look up at him, her eyes wide, stern and scared at once, before she turned her head away from him. “Like false dreams,” she answered in kind.

He leaned down, pressing a ghost of a kiss to her cheek. Wet salt greeted his lips from the tears that had managed to escape, despite her best efforts. “I...I will try, Elia. I can promise to try. As long as you are with me.” 

All the while, the babe in her arms watched quietly, studying the two adults, before slumber took him. 

* * *

Aegon was lower now, Abrax’s claws skimming the water, and her son sent her a mischievous smile. 

“He makes it look as though it’s as easy as riding a horse.” Rhaegar’s voice came from behind her, accompanied by the obligatory clink of Kingsguard armor. Ser Arthur and Jaime tailed behind their King as he joined Elia by her side in the garden. 

“Apparently the ladies have been tittering at court, whispering about how Aegon is the Conqueror come again,” he said with a laugh. “Or so Mace tells me. Eagerly.” 

Elia hated that comparison even if it was understandable. But it did not make it more palatable. “If I remember my history correctly, the original Aegon was not as sun-kissed as ours is,” she replied lightly with an amused smile. 

Rhaegar turned to look at her then, closing the gap between them so there was barely space between their bodies. His hand glided across her cheek, pushing a wayward piece of hair aside and tucking it behind her ear. “That is true. He was found wanting by the sun, I suppose.” Then he leaned down, kissing her cheek before his lips traveled down to her neck with a tender peck. 

Her eyes went wide then. “Rhaegar,” she whispered in shock. As she turned her head away from him into her shoulder, her eyes landed on Jaime. The look he sent her could have turned her into stone right then and there. 

“What are you doing? Someone will see,” she whispered shakily. 

He responded with a small shrug, his thumb brushing across her cheek. “I just…” Then he lifted his head and lips away from her and moved to take one of her hands in his gently. “Thank you for staying with me the other morning, Elia,” he told her quietly. 

She turned her head back to look up at him, and all the years of conflicted feelings raged through her then. Over the years their relationship had ebbed and flowed, as unpredictable as the Sunset Sea, never calming into a steady space. 

She did not know what to say then, or even what she wanted to say as she felt eyes behind burning into her. So instead she brought the letter in her other hand up. “Jon wrote from Winterfell,” she said, clearing her throat unsteadily. 

The expression that crossed his face made him seem almost child-like, he was so happy. He took the letter from her and read it eagerly. But his expression turned contemplative soon enough. 

“He does not mention…” He trailed often, glancing at her before looking back at the letter. “Well, at least they are both enjoying themselves.” 

She looked at him apprehensively. “He did not mention what? What were you expecting?” 

Another gust of wind flew over their heads as Aegon and his dragon flew above getting ready to land nearby. When Elia’s eyes moved to Rhaegar, a shiver went through her body, seeing the sharp glint in his eyes darkening with a thrill. 

“For once, the whispers at court are true,” he said, almost in a daze. 

“Rhaegar,” she said with force, trying to pull him out of his own spell. “What did you mean about the letter? What should Jon have mentioned?” 

His eyes stayed upon their son, marveling at the sight before him, before finally looking to Elia. “I had thought perhaps Jaeherys might write about if Rhaenys had taken to Robb Stark,” he replied casually. 

_ How can he say that so calmly? _Her heart stopped for a beat before she responded. “Why would you expect him to do that?” 

Another beat of silence between them. “Because I asked him to before he left. I’ve come to believe he might be the best match for her.” 

“What would possess you to think that?” she asked, trying to relax herself but to no avail. 

“Because it is what makes sense. She should be in the North - she herself wanted to go there! And her letters and Jon’s have only indicated she is happy there,” he told her brightly. “I did not see it before, but she will be key for -” He caught himself then, glancing at her slowly before looking away. “For the future.” 

She began to shake her head, backing away from him slowly as she registered what he was saying. “You promised. This was supposed to be behind us, Rhaegar,” she breathed with trepidation. 

“I put it away for years, Elia.” The ground shook beneath them at that moment, as Aegon and Abrax landed nearby, drawing both their gazes to their direction and stopping Elia from moving away. “And then Rhaenys found the eggs and _ she _ hatched them,” Rhaegar continued earnestly. “She herself suggested to go North, now Aegon is riding. And it all felt like it was beginning to make sense again. I did not seek it out or grasp for it - it just happened, don’t you see?” 

Aegon was approaching them then, obviously to the rising tension, a carefree and exuberant smile on his beautiful face as he approached his parents. 

“Did you even think to speak to Rhaenys about this?” 

“You and I both know she would reject it if I put it before her. I merely asked Jaehaerys to...to gently push her in that direction. And you know there aren't many other options for her as it is.” 

The strained air was pierced by Aegon’s melodic voice then. “It feels more natural with each passing day,” Aegon greeted them though his expression fell when he saw his mother’s face. “Mother, are you well?” he asked, moving to her and taking her hand in his. 

She exhaled shakily, summoning a smile. “Of course, my love. I just still worry about you riding in the skies like that.” It was not a lie after all, but it wasn’t the whole truth either. 

“Come, it’s time for dinner,” Rhaegar beckoned to their son with a bright smile. “You can tell me about what you thought of the trade negotiations first, and then what you saw from up high.” 

Aegon looked at his father and then to his mother with wary curiosity, as though he were trying to understand what had taken over the air between them. “Of course, father.” 

“Elia?” Rhaegar extended his arm for her. She turned for a moment, looking at the dragon behind them before it began to move to fly off again, shaking the ground once more with each step before it pounced into the air. His black scaled wings pushed a strong gust that sailed through the group, moving Elia to turn around to shield her eyes from the dust and face the others again.

As she took Rhaegar’s arm, they met eyes and stared at each other for a moment. While her eyes were full of incredulous worry and warning, his were only full of blinded hope. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to say, I'm struggling a bit with the King's Landing chapters. The story is obviously centered on Rhaenys and Benjen, but I couldn't imagine writing a Rhaegar-won AU without addressing Elia and Rhaegar's relationship as well. I think I wrote myself into a bit of a corner with Lyanna's later-than-canon death and Elia and Jaime's relationship that then had to be much more limited due to Lyanna's absence. I also wrote Lyanna out as a consequence of Rhaegar's prophecy obsession. In any case, let me know what you think of the KL subplot - do you want to see more of her and Jaime; delve more into Elia and Rhaegar's relationship; or focus it primarily on Rhae and Ben? (Where my Star Wars fans at?? Anybody? No? Alright.)
> 
> On another aside, I truly thought it would be easier to write during lockdown but as things get more drawn out, it actually seems to be the opposite. That said - glad others are writing quite a lot! Reading is a welcome distraction even if writing isn't working out
> 
> Let me know what you think of the chapter, good or bad!


	17. Chapter 17

It was colder than anything Rhaenys have ever felt, and as they got closer to their destination, the Wall began to appear - first as a thin pale line across the horizon, then rising higher and higher until finally it was all-consuming, from west to east.

It was nearing dusk, and the sky was painted in warm hues of pinks and orange, the sun drawing out a crystalline shine from the icy behemoth. They had ridden up on a hill that eventually descended down to the entrance to Castle Black, though they had paused to allow the newcomers to take in the sight.

As the cold whipped at her, the air she breathed filled her, fresh and crisp. For the first time in many days, Rhaenys didn’t even feel the cold, because every part of her felt overwhelmed and awed by what was before her.

A marvel, a wonder.

Magic.

“I’d say this was worth the journey,” Tyrion said, riding up on his horse beside her.

She turned her head to look at him, letting out a puff of air as she breathed. “Very much so, my lord,” she said with a dazed smile, turning to look ahead once more before something caught her eye. An eagle soared above them. She’d seen the large bird for the past few days and could not make sense of it. It seemed to be trailing them - until this moment. Now it appeared it was done with them, as it sailed up to the sky to eventually disappear beyond the Wall.

From the head of the group, Benjen watched as Rhaenys gazed up at the Wall, mesmerized. Atop her horse, her face flushed from the cold and tendrils of hair torn away from her braid dancing around her, and as the colors of the sun setting stood around them, he wondered if he’d seen a sight so beautiful.

“Ben,” a voice called from behind him, gentle but forceful at once, snapping the First Ranger back to attention. “We should head on,” Ned told him, fixing him with a knowing gaze. Benjen acknowledged him with a quick nod and spurred his horse down the hill to make for the entrance.

Lord Umber and a few of his men had accompanied them, so their group was even larger as they rode through the gates of Castle Black. As Ned got down from his horse and handed the reins over to a young boy, he walked towards an older man, tall and bald, with a rough, grey beard.

“Lord Commander,” Ned said formally.

“Lord Stark,” the man replied with a nod of his head. Ned eased then, smiling easily before embracing him.

“It’s good to see you, Jeor, it’s been too long.” The Warden pulled back to look upon his old friend, Jeor Mormont, who was now eyeing the direwolf at Ned’s side as she surveyed their new surroundings.

“Heard there were direwolves in Winterfell, too. Suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised when your brother came back from the Haunted Forest with one,” the Old Bear commented, observing the large creature before his eyes went past Ned. “Speaking of, you’ve brought us back our First Ranger?”

“Aye, was good to have him back home but I know where he belongs,” Ned remarked, nodding to his younger brother. Benjen had gotten down from his horse and strode to the Lord Commander.

“Decided to come back, eh?” Jeor Mormont greeted Benjen gruffly but a smile tugged at his lips all the while.

“Thought you might need me, keep these green boys in line,” Benjen replied, clasping the older man’s arm in his as they pulled the other into a brotherly embrace.

Rhaenys watched the scene before her, still on her horse - Lord Stark and Benjen were speaking to the Lord Commander, Lord Umber and Tyrion were headed to join them, and Yoren was off to the side handing off the two recruits. And as she watched everything else around her, she felt like every eye was on her.

_You’d think three large direwolves would draw the eye but no, it’s a woman,_ she thought dryly.

As she got down from her horse, she felt Ghost lean against her legs affectionately and turned to find Jon at her side, a dark look on his face.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, puzzled.

“Maybe my Uncle was right about you coming here,” he muttered.

“If I can manage it, so can you,” she said with a knowing look before her face softened. “But I appreciate the brotherly protection all the same. Do feel free to send a harsh look to anyone who eyes me the wrong way.”

“I think I can do more than that,” he answered with a slightly offended laugh.

“That will be the warning, I can do the rest,” she confirmed, earning a chuckle. He offered his arm to her, which she took, clasping it in her own, before nodding towards the others. “Well, come on, then.”

Lord Stark turned to them as they approached and made the necessary introductions. The Lord Commander was a large and imposing presence, even as old as he was, but he was still kind when he greeted them.

“You all will be staying in rooms in the King’s Tower,” he told the group, gesturing to a tall tower on the other side of the courtyard that they had begun to walk across. Then Old Bear glanced at Rhaenys and Jon then. “Not sure the last time someone from the royal family visited,” he remarked as they walked up a set of creaky wooden stairs.

“Might have been the last time a woman visited too, by the looks of it,” she replied with a straight face, having said the first thought that crossed her mind.

The Lord Commander paused on the steps and turned to look at her, and quite suddenly Rhaenys wondered if she had misspoken as silence took over the air. Then he snorted heartily in laughter followed by a loud bark of laughter from Greatjon Umber.

“You may be right there, Princess,” Mormont commented with amusement, and she replied with a relieved smile.

As they got to a split of two hallways, the Lord Commander cleared his throat and then addressed Rhaenys and Jon. “Thought it might be more appropriate if Maester Aemon got to greet you both without a crowd.”

She felt a small relief and warmth hearing that. “Thank you, Lord Commander, we appreciate your thoughtfulness.”

“Benjen, can you show them to the Maester Aemon? You can meet us in my solar when you’re done.”

The First Ranger nodded to him. “Aye, Lord Commander.” They departed, with Benjen leading them down the hallway before he stopped in front of a door to knock. A pleasant voice from within beckoned them to enter.

When they walked into the room, Rhaenys' eyes immediately went to the first figure in the room. An old man, tiny and wrinkled, with milk-white eyes. It was odd to think about how long she had waited to meet their very-great Uncle - and for it to now be happening, she felt like she was watching it from outside her own body.

She took careful steps across the creaking wooden floor towards him. “Hello Uncle - er, Maester Aemon,” Rhaenys greeted the old man nervously. Jon gave her a warm look as he came to her side.

“Uncle...Maester…” the old man said softly, repeating the words slowly as a phrase, even as accidentally as Rhaenys had put them together. “It has been a long time since I heard that.” He reached out his hands, his palms open to the sky. Rhaenys looked down before slowly taking his hands in hers.

“It’s so good to finally meet you finally.” Her voice shook with emotion no matter how hard she tried to steady it.

Gently he pulled her hands that held his, and brought her into a soft hug, his thin arms wrapping around her shoulders.

“Oh,” she breathed, overwhelmed by emotions she could not even place, there were so many. The Queen’s father had died before Rhaenys was born, and she - thankfully - barely remembered her other grandfather, banishing what she did remember to the far recesses of her mind. Meeting Aemon felt like filling a piece of a generational void for her somehow.

“I am happy that an old man like me is gifted with the privilege of seeing family here, it has been so long,” he said quietly. He pulled back from their embrace and brought one palm to her face, gently touching it as if to know what she looked like - or perhaps it was to know that she was truly there.

“I am glad we have this opportunity as well...Uncle.” She did not know if it was odd to call him that or if he should only be called Maester. But he did not object, so it settled in the air easily enough.

“And where is your brother? I thought I heard three pairs of feet enter the room.”

Jon walked over to his two relatives, his expression slightly nervous. “Hello Uncle,” he said softly, placing one hand on his arm. Rhaenys took a step back to allow Jon to embrace their elderly relative.

“I’m glad you’ve come, my boy. Though I do think your young uncle could have brought you sooner,” he said with an amused and chastising tone.

Benjen took that as his cue to speak. “Well, I brought him eventually, didn’t I, Maester?” he said with a laugh. He walked to him and gently placed his hand on the old mans’ shoulder.

“It is good to have you back, First Ranger. Steward Chett has grown tired of reading to me, I think.”

Benjen shook his head with a smile. “I will be happy to relieve him of that when I can.”

“I trust your time at Winterfell was restorative? It’s been a long while since I was there, but I remember the warmth of its walls quite fondly,” the Maester recalled.

“It...it was good to be home, yes,” he told him quietly, his body tensing slightly. “I should leave you all to get acquainted, the Lord Commander is waiting for me as it is.” Benjen gave Jon a pat on the shoulder before leaving the room.

“So,” Maester Aemon began, as he took a seat with Jon and Rhaenys seating themselves at the round table as well. “Tell me all about your time at Winterfell and the journey here.”

Jon began speaking about Winterfell and his cousins as Rhaenys chimed in, recounting the beauty of the Godswood and the endless books in the library of the grand northern castle. After some time though, Rhaenys felt a wet nudge against her hand and found Ghost looking at her with expectant eyes.

“I think perhaps Ghost would like to go out,” she laughed.

Jon sighed. “Didn’t have enough during the weeks on the Kingsroad, did you?” he asked the wolf who answered by turning quickly and then sitting on his hind legs with a huff.

“So this is your direwolf,” Maester Aemon commented. Ghost heard his words and moved to him, sniffing his bony hand before giving it a quick lick. “The First Ranger told me he’s white as fresh snow with deep red eyes - as though he were meant just for you, nephew,” he remarked, moving his hand to find the top of Ghost’s head, petting him gently.

“Aye, I think he was. Though sometimes I think he likes her better,” he said as a mock chastisement to the direwolf. “I’ll take him out a bit and then come back,” Jon told them, giving Rheanys a soft smile before he rose and left with Ghost.

“I wish I still had my sight,” he said softly as he placed one hand on the table with his palm open. She gently clasped it in her own hand. “Your father says one can see both your mother and him in you.”

She stiffened slightly. “I think I look like mama and...grandmother." Then she paused. "I think we all see what we want to see."

“That is quite true. You know, I’m as Dornish as you are,” he declared with a small laugh.

“Yes, Uncle,” she replied warmly with a hint of laughter and a fond smile on her lips. “I’m quite aware.”

“I suppose I don’t look much for it now, do I? Small, pale and wrinkled,” he remarked, a sad chuckle following.

She studied his face for a moment, trying to memorize him. “Your mother Dyanna and then your grandmother.”

“I can still remember her, my grandmother, Myriah - she’s still there in my mind, in pieces, flashes of her.”

“What was she like?” Rhaenys asked eagerly. Maester Aemon had lived so long, seen so much, known so many people -she wondered what else she could learn from him. And the history books written by the maesters never seemed to mention women much - unless it had to do with their relationship to a man. She often wondered if she would be another Targaryen Princess that the history books noted for her marriage to a lord before she vanished all together.

Aemon hummed in thought, thinking of his grandmother. “Regal, strong but kind...and tough, by the gods, she was tough!” he said with a laugh. “She had to be though, I suppose. She sang to me when I was very young - she would tell me stories when I would not sleep and then sing beautiful Rhoynish lullabies.”

“My mother did as well,” she recalled warmly.

“It is a gift when pieces of our history, our families, can stay with us like that, is it not? Those songs never failed to soothe me into sleep. Or perhaps it was just her voice, it was so lovely” he remembered, his eyes glinting. “I was young when she died, she passed not too long after my Uncle Baelor.” His expression turned pensive then. “He should have been King one day...” he trailed off.

What a terrible thing, Rhaenys remembered. A trial for Ser Duncan the Tall because he defended a puppeteer from Aerion Brightflame, Aemon’s brother. And then their father Maekar had fought on behalf of Aerion.

“My father said being king was his punishment for dealing his brother that blow.” He patted her hand gingerly as he sunk into thought. “How odd to think about what could have been if that Tourney had not happened. Mayhaps Uncle would have taken his boys to Dorne and they would have survived the Great Sickness that consumed the capital.”

She turned her head in thought. “Asking ‘what if’ can yield many new paths, I suppose? What if you had said yes to the throne?” she wondered softly.

He chuckled. “Well, then you might not be here, hmm? And that is not something I would particularly like.”

His affection made her feel a new layer of happiness that she did not know she had even wanted for. “And so it went from one fourth son to another,” she replied, thinking of Aegon the Unlikely.

“Egg,” he whispered. “How fares your brother, your own Egg?” he asked, wistful notes playing in his voice.

“I think he is well, though he very much wanted to come too,” she answered softly. “I know he will be a good King. But I...I worry for him. The capital - it’s such a treacherous place.”

“From what I am told, he is quite popular both at court and amongst the smallfolk,” he replied.

She nodded in agreement. “I suppose it’s also to his benefit that he has the Targaryen look of course,” she said dryly with a small laugh. “They refer to him as ‘silver and gold’ at court.’”

“Well, that’s not terribly creative, I must say.”

She scoffed. “I dare say most of the people at court are not the most creative lot.”

Though he was not looking at her, she felt like he could see her. “Your mother used to worry about this as well.”

“She did?” Rhaenys asked incredulously. And then Rhaenys felt like a fool. _Of course she thought about it. It has already crossed my mind after all. But mother has never spoken about it._

“I think she was afraid others might twist and turn things to somehow make your other brother King one day, over her half-Dornish son. Your father wrote to me of it long ago. When he wrote of how he wanted…” He paused for a moment, looking down at the table, his eyes glancing just past their two joined hands. And then slowly he placed his other hand atop them. “Of how he wanted to make amends.”

Her breath faltered for a moment. “I think that is easier said than done, Uncle. Words are indeed wind,” she told him quietly.

His hands were bony and small but when he gave her a soft, assuring pat, they felt soft and strong. “I cannot instruct you to forgive him - I would not. But I pray you do not let the past take all of you - or let it be all that defines you.”

She swallowed thickly at his words, knowing what he was trying to say. “What would you have me do,” she replied, her voice slightly hoarse as she tried to bury the grief and anger that was always lying in wait for her.

“Sweet niece, I can’t begin to tell you how to achieve it, but I think somehow you must find a way to make peace with the past so that you can move forward,” he counseled gently. “We must remember what happened and learn from it, but it need not dictate every step of the future.”

“Perhaps it would be easier if I thought he truly regretted his actions - or could take responsibility for all of it without hiding behind the false grandeur of fulfilling a prophecy.”

“That blasted prophecy.” He turned his head a bit, his cloudy eyes appearing as though they looked past her. “We never looked for a girl,” he whispered. “Always believing it was a prince…and there you came, hatching the dragons.”

“Uncle, please,” she whispered, not wanting to go down this road. “You know I do not believe in the prophecy. I may believe in the Long Night, but I do not believe in saviors - or one hero to save us all.” She said the last part with a false flourish of drama. “One can be true without the other.”

He gripped her hand. “It was not just your father. He was a fool, make no mistake! But I was too, we both were. We thought ourselves so wise!” His thin eyelids floated shut over his unseeing orbs. “I did not know what he was going to do, but I should not have encouraged him when it came to the scrolls and mists of the future.”

She sighed, looking at their joined hands. “You cannot take responsibility for his actions.”

“I am sorry for all that happened to you, my dear.” His voice was so quiet, rough and brittle. “But I am glad you are here.”

“As am I, Uncle.” Then a smile crossed her face and even if he could not see, it would be heard in her words nonetheless. “If you don’t mind, I’d spend much of my time while we are here with you,” she told him hopefully.

“Nothing would please me more,” he replied, his voice breaking slightly. “I miss much now that I do not have my sight, but I miss books most of all. It would be quite wonderful to have you read from them instead of the stewards who, I’m quite sure, tire of me. I think even the First Ranger grows bored with that task when I ask it of him.”

She felt a pang of an emotion she could not identify when he mentioned Benjen. “I had thought perhaps we would be able to go beyond the Wall, but…” she trailed off. It was then that Jon returned - and his Uncle with him.

“They’re gathering for dinner in the hall, if you are ready?” Jon asked as they entered.

“Come, nephew, hold your old Uncle up while we walk to the Hall, hmm?” the former prince asked. Jon gave him a smile he could not see before gingerly taking Aemon’s arm in his.

Rhaenys looked at Benjen, realizing this left them to walk first - together. _Unless I just awkwardly hung back,_ she thought.

They walked slowly, as Jon padded carefully with Maester Aemon and the guards behind them. Benjen had yet to utter a word, not that she was surprised, but gods, did she hate silences like this.

“Are you glad to be back?” she finally asked him as they descended the stairs to the courtyard.

He hummed, grunted really, a ‘yes.’

She fought the urge to let out an exasperated and frustrated sigh, not wanting to show how annoyed she was with his inexplicable coldness. Perhaps it was the harsh indifference that brought back a memory, a brutal contrast to their new dynamic.

“I’m sure Maester Aemon will be happy to have the book you brought - the one he wanted from the library at Winterfell,” she reminded, now looking at him with a focused gaze as they got to the bottom of the steps.

His pace slowed even more then, and she could see that her words had shaken him slightly. He looked at her almost as though she had cracked something inside of him.

“Yes,” was all he could stammer out before turning his eyes away from her quickly and looking across the yard. Then the strained mask reemerged on his face once more. “The Common Hall is there,” he said with a curt nod. “You both will sit at the Lord Commander’s table.”

She nodded at the information. “And you? Where do you normally sit?” A very small part of her enjoyed watching him tense at her continuing their conversation. If she had to stomach his coldness without explanation, he would have to abide by her intent to talk when he could not get away.

It was dark now, the sun gone for the day, and the only light was the torches that danced around the courtyard haphazardly. “I’ll be at his table, as well. Along with the other high officers.” His voice felt no warmer than the air around them.

She was about to ask him about the other high officers, both out of curiosity and also to prolong the conversation, when one of her feet hit a small, slick piece of ice. She let out a small yelp as her feet tumbled beneath her before she was caught by Benjen.

“You alright, Rhae?” Jon called from behind her.

One of Benjen’s arms was under one of her own, with his free hand steadying her by the waist.

“I...I’m fine, just foolishly not looking for patches of ice as I should be,” she said sheepishly before glancing up at Benjen.

“Steady then?” he asked her quietly. And for a moment - and only a moment - she felt like she had at Winterfell - in the library at night, in the Godswood, when they danced - when there was no wall between them.

“Yes,” she whispered, her hand unconsciously drifting down to hover over his own that was at her waist. “Thank you.”

“Everything alright out here?” a stern voice called. Rhaenys and Benjen’s heads snapped forward, only to see Lord Stark in the doorway leading into the hall.

In what was surely less than a second, Benjen set Rhaenys on her feet and took a step away from her. “The Princess slipped,” he said without emotion, walking quickly to the hall without meeting his brother’s eye and disappearing from Rhaenys’s view. Lord Stark gazed at her with an uneasy expression before walking in as well.

She was mildly stunned and utterly baffled. _What is happening? And why did Lord Stark look at me like I’m an actual dragon?_ She let out an exasperated breath as she followed into the hall.

The Lord Commander sat at the center of the table and Lord Stark was taking a seat on one side. Tyrion was there as well, wine already in hand and seated with Greatjon As they approached, she tried to ignore the fact that every eye was on them - on her. Instead she focused ahead where Mormont gestured to Jon to bring Maester Aemon to his other side.

As she took a seat by Aemon, she took in the feast before them. The spread of food seemed to reflect the new guests with a large rack of lamb that smelled of garlic and herbs, plates of buttery, mashed yellow turnips and plentiful salads of spinach and chickpeas.

“Maester Aemon tells me of your interest in the Watch, your grace,” the Lord Commander commented to her, leaning his head slightly to look past her very-great Uncle. “I’ll not lie, I find that surprising.”

“Well, our Uncle has helped me stay abreast of news here.” She took a bite of turnips before she continued. “I would very much like to go beyond the Wall, if you think it may be safe of course. Though the First Ranger had said it may not be possible.”

He nodded in agreement as he cut into a piece of lamb. “Aye, he’s right, we’ve had troubling reports so far.” Her face fell hearing his confirmation, which he seemed to register. “But...but mayhaps a small journey not far from the gate could be arranged.”

With the Lord Commander’s attention turned to the Princess and Lord Umber engaged in conversation with Tyrion, laughing raucously at something the Lannister lord had just said, Ned leaned towards Benjen, speaking quietly. “I was surprised to see you together.” He did not need to mention a name.

Benjen stiffened, his eyes looking ahead to his black brothers. “Should I have let her fall to the ground, Ned? Would that have been better?”

“I just think you need to be more careful,” he stated solemnly,

Benjen exhaled slowly and deeply. When Ned had confronted him, albeit gently, at Winterfell, he had felt a deep pang of failure - as though he had disappointed his brother somehow. And he had been trying so hard the past few weeks to show him he was strong, dutiful - no matter that it felt like a slow and constant torture. And now this.

“I’ve barely spoken two words to her since we left Winterfell, if you hadn’t noticed,” he told him in a whisper, his words as cold as the Wall.

His brother picked up his mug of cider, taking a large sip. “I’ve noticed, Ben. You’ve looked completely miserable.”

The First Ranger considered himself a calm man. Their father Rickard had been right when he said that Brandon and Lyanna had gotten the bulk of the wolf blood, and he and Ned were the rational, patient ones. But he also found that when he was rankled enough - or pushed far enough - there were drops, even if only a few, of feral fury in his blood too. _Should I wear a smile while I torture myself?_ he thought bitterly.

He took his cider, draining his mug of the liquid, and with a swipe of his arm across his beard and mouth to rid himself of the remnants, he rose from his chair. “It was a long journey, I’m going to get some rest.”

He walked to the Lord Commander’s seat to take his leave, saying goodnight to him and then Maester Aemon, Jon and finally the Princess. The last parting was the swiftest of all.

As he walked through the cold air to the tower where his chambers lay, he hoped that the darkness of sleep would provide a respite he had yet to find.

* * *

There was only the faintest glimmer of light from the small window in her room when Rhaenys woke in the morning. It was far too early, but she knew there was no point in trying to go back to sleep. So she pushed herself out of the bed and decided to get ready for the day.

As she left her chambers and walked in the fresh cold, she decided to wander a bit. The sun was barely rising now, and she wondered if many people would be awake right now. It seemed like the answer would be no - until she heard something from the yard below.

Her eyes found Benjen, outside in the yard, training alone.

As she walked quietly along the balcony, Rhaenys watched him for a few moments. He was moving his sword slowly through the air before he made two steps quickly, his sword cutting through his own crystallized breath, as he swung at his invisible enemy.

She wanted this feeling to go away - the gnawing, the tension. If he would just tell her what had changed, perhaps it would make her mind feel better. The mystery would be solved; she could understand - and then she could move on, she rationalized.

But that would mean he would need to actually speak with her - something he seemed intent on not doing.

She was determined to resolve this somehow.

Making her way quietly down the stairs, she stopped when she came to the edge of the yard. “You’re up early,” Rhaenys said, causing Benjen to startle and nearly drop his sword. He turned around quickly to face her, beads of sweat dripping down his long solemn face. The skin of his cheeks was flushed from both the cold and exertion. Somehow seeing him like this sent her nerves flying. “And you’re in need of a sparring partner, it seems,” she said, trying to summon some confidence - despite the fluttering in her stomach.

He stared at her in shock for a few moments before replying. “I was just finishing actually. Apologies, Your Grace,” he replied steadily, turning his back to her to leave.

“Benjen,” she called out, her voice bolder now. “I would like to spar with you.”

He stopped walking but did not turn to look at her, only turning his head to the side slightly. “Jon can spar with you when he is awake,” he told her, moving to leave again as his brother’s disapproving face ran through his mind.

Now Rhaenys was done being patient. She walked quickly and overtook Benjen, standing in front of him. She looked at the ranger, and he flinched when their eyes met - though she could not read his expression. But her eyes, even indigo as they were, gazed at him with pure fire.

“Spar with me,” she demanded.

He looked back at her, trying to control his emotions. He just wanted this to be over, why did the gods see fit to torment him? He knew telling her ‘no’ would only make her dig in further. _I will spar and spar quickly and be done_.

“As you command,” he answered roughly. He turned around and walked away from her, back to the training ground. Grabbing two sparring swords, he turned back around and when he saw her approach he tossed one to her. She caught it quickly but he could tell he had caught her off guard.

They stood facing each other now and it felt like everything else had drifted away around them, a buzz surrounding them as though there was nothing else. And then he moved towards her fast. Rhaenys was normally quick but somehow before she knew it, he had already disarmed her.

“We have sparred, Your Grace,” he told her.

She gaped at him and then composed herself, picking up the sword again. “I did not yield.”

He looked at her and now his eyes looked positively anguished.

She batted her sword against his - a tease, a challenge. “Unless you find yourself wanting,” she dared haughtily. That seemed to rouse something, a blue flame of emotion passing through his eyes. “We go again,” she stated, her eyes unmoving.

He let out a frustrated sigh, staring up to the sky and trying to find a way out but there was only one. “Fine,” he seethed and resumed his position.

This time Rhaenys came at him quickly, and they began to spar in earnest. But they were only a few moves in when she started to realize that she was not going to win this. Either he had held back when they sparred briefly at Winterfell - or she was out of sorts at that moment. He bore down on her and with one last strike, he had knocked her sword down once more.

Before he could bring his sword to her body to force her to yield, she rolled onto the ground, into the wet earth and grabbed her dulled weapon once more. Rising quickly, she readied herself.

“I did not yield,” she said, breathing hard, her sword raised.

She could see his jaw clench as he looked upon her. “Why,” he gritted out.

“I might ask you the same,” she returned.

Now his eyes were nearly wild, staring at her with an expression she could not place - but it made her feel terrified and thrilled at once. She knew her only way to last at least somewhat longer was to use her speed and lightness and try to perhaps tire him out, even if she could not land a jab or strike of her own.

So they began again, with the Princess leading him in a turn that seemed designed to build his frustration more and more - to deprive him of finding resolution. But with each swift deflection or parry of hers, he seemed to adapt, advancing on her with quick and deft strokes. Their rhythm became like a wave building, rolling faster and faster as it grew.

And all the while, the noises that tumbled from him as their dance intensified made her blood sing.

But then the wave crashed - because within one move as he sidestepped and twisted to place himself behind her. That was how she found herself pressed against him, her back to his chest. His blunt sword was at her neck and his other hand holding her sword hand. And as his chest rose and fell behind her, she suddenly felt the faintest graze of his lips against her ear. A coiled heat took hold in her stomach and lower, and her breath got quicker, which seemed impossible.

“Yield?” he whispered, the heat of his breath traveling along her neck. A stumbling gasp escaped her lips before she even realized it.

Moving her head slightly, she caught his eyes in a side glance. It was then that she saw something in them shift, break. Then she felt the slightest weakening of his arm and pushed herself out of his hold with a yell.

And suddenly with that push and a turn of her body, her sparring sword was against his and their faces only a few inches apart as their eyes bore into the other, their chests heaving.

His eyes flicked to her lips. She had done the same, before her eyes moved back up to his. “Why won’t you talk to me?” she pleaded through breaths, her eyes blazing into his with desperate anger and pain.

Benjen held her gaze. Silent tension filled the air completely, save their panting breaths. Then he pulled back his sword, causing her to stumble slightly from the release, and he stepped back. “I yield,” he said gruffly.

Heaving breaths left her, her chest rising and falling in rapid succession, and her arms fell with a thud to her sides. She wanted to yell at him, scream - but all of the words she wanted to say felt stuck in her throat - in anger, in confusion and more.

He looked at her for a few moments, his breath even quicker than hers. He was about to turn away to leave when they both heard a sudden exclamation from the other side of the yard.

Thick footsteps were heard against the ground as a voice called out. “First Ranger!! First Ranger!” A young brother in black was running towards them from the direction of the cage that led to the top of the wall, his face red and tense and his eyes wide with shock.

Benjen looked at him in confusion. “Gods, lad, what is it? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“We just received this letter,” he panted, raising his hand to display the scroll.

“Well, who is it for?” Benjen replied, mystified by why this was particularly challenging.

“It-it-…” he stammered. Benjen put a hand on his shoulder, and looked him in the eyes, trying to help him steady himself. “It’s for your brother - Lord Stark.”

“My brother?” he asked, surprised. They’d barely made it here, who could it be from? He hoped nothing was amiss at Winterfell. “Who is it from?”

The young brother stared at him, shock still drowning his eyes. “Mance Rayder.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not know anything about sword fighting and therefore find it quite difficult to write sparring scenes. 
> 
> Also I don't know when Myriah/Mariah Martell died (because it's never mentioned - not surprising I guess since there isn't even consistency in the spelling of her name - strong side eye) - so I made up my own timeline.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wolf blood.

“It’s a trap, Ned! A bloody trap!!” 

Greatjon Umber’s voice echoed across the Lord Commander’s solar where they had all gathered after news of the message spread. The Lord of the Last Hearth, Lord Stark, Benjen, the Lord Commander and Maester Aemon. And then amidst the sea of black and grey and northern rage were Rhaenys, Jon and Tyrion. 

“He wants to meet, to parley?” the giant Northern lord continued, his face red. “It’s madness!” 

“I don’t disagree that it’s mad, Greatjon,” Lord Stark said, dragging one hand across his face wearily. “But I can’t just dismiss it either.” 

The Lord Commander took a sip of his morning tea, his old raven perched on his shoulder, before chiming in. “I understand what you’re saying,” Jeor Mormont said, directing his words to Lord Umber. “But things are changing, Greatjon. You’ve said it yourself, more and more wildlings are comin’ onto your lands. Our rangers have had strange and worrying reports as of late,” he said, his voice gruff and apprehensive.

“Perhaps the wildlings simply want some warmth,” Tyrion commented with a smile, clearly not understanding why they were all so grim. “What else could it be?” 

“It’s not just wildlings that are fleeing these parts, my lord,” the Lord Commander stated firmly and with an edge to his words. “Brothers have started to desert. Lord Stark can tell you that. And the last one who lost his head was no green boy - he was a man near as old as me and served longer on the Wall.” 

“The man,” Lord Stark said, his tone grave. “He spoke of the dead. You believe his words, Jeor?”

“The dead??” Greatjon yelled. 

_ “Dead! Dead!” _ the Lord Commander’s old raven cawed. Lord Umber looked at it with wide eyes, before his expression turned to bewildered annoyance. 

“As the bird said - the dead! But you can’t be serious??” he asked the Warden of the North before looking to the Lord Commander. “Jeor?”he asked incredulously. 

“Whatever made Gared run,” Mormont said, speaking of the brother Lord Stark had beheaded, “he must have had a good reason.” The Old Bear rose from his seat then and walked to his window, staring out into the white mists that had begun to sprinkle the air. “The days are getting shorter, Greatjon. And the wildlings are not running _ for _ something, they are running _ from _ something - but what?” 

The Greatjon and Tyrion looked at the grizzled old man as if he were completely insane. 

“How did he know that I was even here, that Jon and the Princess are here,” Ned muttered, almost to himself. “He requests that they come. What game is he playing?” The message from the so-called King-Beyond-the-Wall had stated that he wanted to meet with Lord Stark to discuss matters of the north, but even more surprising was the fact that he wanted Rhaenys and Jon to come - or the ‘dragon’s children,’ as he had scrawled in his missive. 

“No.” Benjen’s voice was low and dangerous. It brought a silence to the room as it was the first time he’d spoken since he first gave Lord Stark the message. “Even if we go, they cannot come. It is not safe.” 

Rhaenys gaped at him. She’d barely had time to gather her wits about her after they sparred and they all came here. And now, not only did he see fit to ignore her, he would deny her this. She stood up then, bracing her hands on the table firmly. “The entire goal of his journey was for precisely something like this!” She caught Benjen’s eyes then, both holding each other’s gaze with a simmering energy, before he looked away. Jon eyed both of them warily, not missing the tension between them. 

“I came by order of the King,” Rhaenys continued, “to find out about this man and what is happening to drive his people south,” Rhaenys reminded them. “I can go, Jon will stay.” 

Her brother shot up from his chair then. “I won’t let you go without me, are you mad, Rhae?” he yelled indignantly. 

“Peace, nephew, niece,” Maester Aemon said gently though firmly, putting his pale, wrinkled hands up in the air in a gesture asking for calm. “While I believe caution is wise, I do not believe Mance Rayder plots something ill. From when I knew him during his time here, though it was many years past, he did not strike me as the devious sort, no matter that he deserted.” 

There was silence as the room considered the words of a man with nearly a century’s worth of time. Finally Benjen spoke. “Lord Commander, if we are to do this, we should have Qhorin meet us from the Shadow Tower with some of his men. He knew Mance when he was a brother,” Benjen said cautiously. 

“Aye, will be smart to have someone who has some knowledge of him with us. I’ll write to him straight away, he should be back at the Tower now as it is.” 

Benjen walked over to the table where a map was laid out. He scanned it with an intense focus, looking about different areas. “If Mance is in the Skirling Pass as our reports have said, we should have him come closer to us. We should not go too far from the Wall.” Then he pinned an area with one finger, pointing into crudely drawn trees. “Here, we’ll still be in the Haunted Forest. And it’s not far from the Shadow Tower.” 

“Aye, you’ve got the right of it, Ben,” the Lord Commander said, walking to the table to look over the map. “There, before the river. We can send word to Denys and Qhorin,” he said, speaking of the commander of the Watch’s westernmost castle and the veteran ranger respectively, “they should get the raven by end of day.” 

Lord Umber and Lord Stark walked over to look over the map as well, Lord Umber still muttering about how it was all madness. 

“How…” Jon began carefully, his brow furrowed in thought. “How did he gather all these different clans?” 

“And why?” Rhaenys added, her voice low with warning. 

_ “Why! Why!” _ the raven called. 

“That,” Maester Aemon said with authority as he clasped Rhaenys’s hand gently in his, “is the reason you all must go.” 

* * *

It was a few days later that they finally set out. It allowed her to spend more time with Maester Aemon before they left, holed up in the library together. Benjen avoided her like she was one of the dead. More than that, she knew that he had tried to convince Lord Commander Mormont to not let her come with the group - an argument he had lost. She was sick and tired of trying to figure him out, sick of trying to understand her own feelings - or rather, of trying to ignore what she knew she felt. So instead put her mind’s energy towards the coming journey and meeting.

After receiving word from the commander of the Shadow Tower, Lord Commander Mormont had a raven sent out to Mance Rayder with place and time for the parley. With the Stark and Umber guards and rangers joining, they were near twenty in the group as they went below into the icy, dark tunnel beneath the wall. 

When they emerged on the other side and the light shone on the once more, Rhaenys felt like they were truly at the edge of the world. Before them lay the Haunted Forest - wild, dark and thick. As they rode through the dense forest, the air was ominous and knowing somehow, as ice-covered leaves cracked underneath the hooves of their horses. Even when they did not ride by weirwoods, Rhaenys felt like the forest watched them. 

They made camp for the night in an area the rangers deemed to be safe, and the next morning, they were expecting to meet with Qhorin Halfhand and a group of brothers from the Shadow Tower. When morning broke, the group gathered around to break their fast with some of the basic provisions they had brought and waited for the other group to arrive. 

The air felt impossibly fresh where they were, it was exhilarating. As she took a deep breath, Rhaenys closed her eyes letting the crisp air fill her lungs. It was then that she heard the noise of a bird in the air, and her eyes shot open. She recognized the cry, she realized. As she scanned the skies, she finally found it. 

_ It can’t be, _ she thought. It was the eagle that was with them before they reached the Wall. _ Why is it following us? _She shook her head, thinking she must be crazy. But almost in a daze, she rose and began to trail it as it circled another patch of wood nearby. Before she realized it, she had trailed away from the rest of the group. 

Back at the campsite, Jon came back from washing at a nearby stream. As he packed away his washing cloth, he looked around the group for his sister, but could not find her. 

He rose from his satchel and went to Benjen. “Uncle, have you seen Rhaenys anywhere?” Jon asked, his face tense. 

“No, can’t say that I have.” He had decidedly been avoiding her as much as possible in fact. The more Benjen was around the Princess, the harder it was becoming to control his emotions. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“I can’t find her and no one else seems to know where she is. Maybe I’m worrying for nothing?” Jon said tentatively but Benjen could hear the concern in his voice. Not wanting to draw attention, he pulled Jon to the outer part of the site. 

“How long has it been?” he asked his nephew quietly. 

“I don’t know, she was at the campsite when I left, but I was gone for a bit at the stream. When I came back, she was gone.” 

Benjen’s mind went in a hundred different directions at once. _ This is what comes of letting your emotions get the better of you _, he thought ruefully. If he had just been able to look at her, he could have kept an eye on her. 

It was then that Rhaenys returned, emerging from the trees holding plants in her hands, looking as though she were in a daze of thought. 

“Rhae! Where were you??” Jon asked in a frenzy, rushing to her. 

She took a step back, waking from her thoughts suddenly. “I - I was…” What was she supposed to say? _I went after an eagle because I thought it was following us._ _Gods, maybe I’m as mad as grandfather. _“I just went for a walk. And I found some plants that Maester Aemon told me about for healing. What’s wrong? Did something happen?” 

“‘Did something happen?’ Rhae! You didn’t tell anyone where you went! There could be wildlings close by or worse!” he whispered angrily. 

He was right, she had been foolish - but she was not about to admit that. She already felt like this group of men did not want a woman in their midst. So instead she rolled her eyes - though if she had been reading the air floating between herself and the two men, she would have realized a mocking tone was not the best path. “Jon, I was not that far away and was not gone for long. And I had a dagger with me, you know I can fend for myself,” she told him in a lecturing tone, trying to brush him off. “There’s no need to be so dramatic,” she said with a small laugh. 

Now it was Benjen’s turn to speak. He turned to look at her and any lightness she felt died in an instant when she saw the look in the First Ranger’s eyes. 

“You think this is funny? Do you think you know the wildlings? How they fight? What were you thinking??” he seethed. 

Her eyes widened hearing his tone. _ Now he speaks to me? _ Taking deep breaths, she tried to calm her emotions as she responded. “As I told my brother, First Ranger, I was not that far and was armed to protect myself.” 

“This isn’t the sparring ground in Winterfell or King’s Landing, Princess. When we fight out here, beyond the Wall, there are no rules and it is not one-on-one. Tell me, have _ you _ fought wildings before?” He was fuming now and the tension between the two of them was only rising. “I knew you shouldn’t have come here,” he let out, his words cold as the snow around them. 

Now any semblance of remaining calm was near gone. She had tried to be patient, she had asked him to explain why he was angry with her - and to no avail. _ And now he speaks to me like this? _

“Jon,” Rhaenys gritted out. “Would you please excuse us for a moment? I would have words in private with First Ranger Stark.” She handed Jon the plants in her hands and turned back to face Benjen.

Jon looked at her and then to his Uncle and then back to her. _ I know that tone, _ he thought. _ That is the tone she uses before she erupts _. He gave them both a quick nod and walked off.

“First Ranger, may we walk into the woods a bit for some privacy? If you deem it safe, of course.” Bitter sarcasm dripped out of the last words. 

He huffed before walking to a path and gesturing for her to follow. They walked in silence a few minutes before he stopped. 

“Rhaenys -” 

She scoffed. “So now you can talk to me?” 

“Gods! Do you really not understand that you put yourself in danger? Can you be that thick?” 

She stared at him incredulously. “Thick?? I was barely a few steps from where we are now! How is that dangerous!” 

“And if you had been attacked, how do you imagine the King would react?” he asked, stepping towards her. 

She tossed her head back, laughing. “So that’s what worries you. Well, I’m back now and I shall not wander off again. You don’t have to worry about the Crown’s wrath. Happy?” 

“Happy? Am I _ happy _??” Benjen ran both hands through his hair fiercely, not realizing - or perhaps caring - that he had ripped away the tie that normally kept part of his long hair wrapped away from his face. Now his dark locks flew wild, whipping in the air above his cloak as he paced between two trees. 

He finally stopped in front of her. “Do you think that’s all this is about? Did you not see how frantic Jon was worrying about you?” He sounded almost like he was pleading now. His eyes seemed to have lost a bit of the anger present before, though not all by any measure. 

They were now face to face, and she stared up at him intently. “And you? Why do you even care? You’ve barely acknowledged me since we left Winterfell. I’m surprised you even remember I’m here!” She knew she sounded a bit childish, but she didn’t care. In that moment, it felt like the woods were drawing on the tension in the air as the wind howled around them causing tree branches to shake. 

His eyes widened when she said that. He had been avoiding her but what else was there to do? “In case you forgot, I have a duty here, a job. And I’ve been seeing to it. I’m sorry I have not been around to entertain you, Princess.” 

She flinched as if he had hit her, and he knew he had spoken ill. The mask of anger on his face cracked more and he stepped towards her, but she took a step back. 

“I did not realize that it was so painful for you to speak to me.” Her whole body felt like it was trembling now - in rage, in pain, and something else underneath it all. _ Why did he bother speaking so much with me at Winterfell if he thinks so little of me? _She could feel her chest rising and falling faster and faster as her breath quickened. “I don’t even know why we are arguing about this now! I won’t leave my confines again. Will that satisfy you? Hmm, are you satisfied??” she asked in one angry rush. 

Something in the air, something between them, stilled at that moment. They both had paused, breathing heavily in their fury, staring the other down. Rhaenys was trying to beat down the emotions rising in her, her mouth parted to try to make her own tension dissipate; Benjen was staring at her so intently, it felt like her knees would give way from beneath her. 

And it was then that everything changed.

She took one step to walk away from him but before she knew it, she gasped as her back was pressed against a pine tree and Benjen’s lips crashed into hers. The rough bark was pressing into her spine, but she didn’t care. Any pain faded away as their kiss deepened. Benjen’s hands fell quickly from the back of Rhaenys’s head to her waist, pulling her hips into him, clutching her fiercely. And when his tongue entered her mouth, she let out a small whimper of surprise and pleasure. She wove her hands into his long hair - _ Gods I’ve wanted to touch this hair for so long now _. Instinctively she brought one leg up to wrap him closer to her, locking him into her body as much as she could, soliciting a low groan that tumbled from the back of Benjen’s throat. And as he moved against her body, he was met with a gasping moan from her when she felt his hardness press into her. 

Desperate sighs filled the air and the way they kissed each other, Rhaenys wondered if they would swallow the other whole - and she wished they would, that they _ could _. 

But suddenly Benjen broke the kiss - pulling away from her with a strangled cry, stepping back and panting for air. 

It was as though Rhaenys had lost control of all her senses now. She heard nothing but a buzz; but her body - every part of her felt like she was truly fire made flesh in that moment. And her eyes could only see him and his beautiful blue-grey eyes that were staring into her now, with a torment brewing in them. 

Rhaenys touched her fingertips to her lips. “Benjen,” she said in a whisper, trying to comprehend what had just taken place. Much of her hair had come undone from her braid, flitting around her flushed face. 

Looking at him, she didn’t know if she had seen so many emotions at once in a person’s eyes - lust, confusion, longing, anger. He slowly moved back towards her, his hands rising to cup her cheeks, gently pushing some of hair behind her ear. She brought her hands to hold his face as well, tracing down the long scar near his eyebrow. For a few moments, they simply stood - face to face, gazing at the other - catching their breath, both wondering what had just happened; what they had done. Snow had started to fall around them gently. 

Finally Rhaenys spoke. “Was that your wolf blood then,” she asked quietly through breaths, wanting to avoid what she knew he would soon say. 

“I think you bring it out.” They both let out a small laugh. He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead down against hers. “I should not have done that,” he uttered, still trying to catch his breath. 

She caressed his cheeks almost rhythmically, her eyes closed now as well. “It was not just you, Benjen. I wanted that to happen...for longer than I think I even know.” Her voice was gentle but he could hear the determination behind it. “Is..._ this _...why you have been avoiding me?” 

He sighed, pulling his head from hers and when he looked into her eyes again, she could see the defeat in them. “You know that nothing can come of it.” His voice was shaking now. “I...I cannot break my vows. And this is already dancing too close.” 

_ Of course I know that! _she wanted to scream. Swallowing those words down and their harsh reality made speaking even more difficult. “I know, it’s just...what now?” The words came out in a broken whisper but sounded louder as the woods had quieted around them. She pulled his face to hers. “I don’t want you to break your vows, I would never ask you to do that. But I…I know we have not known each other long, but I care for you, Benjen. Do you feel like this as well?” 

His throat was tight as he swallowed before answering 'yes.' It was barely a whisper, but the breath of his answer crystallized in the cold air, a frozen testament. 

“I don’t know how to not feel like this. Tell me how, tell me how _ you _ will,” she pleaded trying to hold back tears but they began to fall regardless. 

He brought his thumb to her cheek, brushing at the tears. His eyes followed his fingers as they traced her wet grief. When his thumb grazed over her pink, kiss-swollen lips, she let out a shaky breath. His eyes, as they moved back to hers, were still a dark storm of desire and confusion. 

“Push the feelings down and far away. That’s all we can do. You’ll be gone soon and then we will go on as we must.” Even though she knew it was true, none of it made her feel better. _ How can it be possible to feel so bad after so much joy in an instant? _

His hands fell away from her face. “We should go, the other men should be arriving by now.” 

He moved to leave, but before they walked away, she grabbed his hand to stop him. “Just promise me you’ll at least talk to me while we’re still here,” she whispered but it sounded as fierce as a command. “That’s all I ask. After that, you probably won’t have to see me again, so it won’t matter.” 

He closed his eyes, his brows furrowing in pain. He looked down at her hand for a few moments, his thumb tracing circle around her hand. _What have you done? What have you unleashed?_ But when his eyes rose to her face again, he knew he could not deny her. So he brought her hand to his lips slowly, laying a tender kiss on her skin.

“I promise.” 

Nearby, red sap flowed from the eyes of a heart tree. The wind slept and the tree’s leaves lay limp on the ground. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that slow-burn only took 18 chapters. Let me know what you think in the comments!


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A brief interlude in King's Landing

_ “It was said the Mother Rhoyne herself whispered to her children of every threat, that the Rhoynar princes wielded strange, uncanny powers...” _

  
  


* * *

He dreamt that night. So much and so little. 

_ Aegon dreamt of soaring through the sky, though he was not atop his dragon. And as quickly as felt the softness of clouds around him, they evaporated, and he found himself now swimming deep in the depths of the ocean. _

_ If he screamed, he could not know because the rush of the water melded with his own voice. _

_ But within a few moments, the feeling of flying - though flying through water - was now what brought calm to him. _

_ And power. _

_ He swam quickly, flying like a spear thrown in the air, never wavering from its path. The water pulsed around him, as though his heart and the tides were of the same source. _

_ And so he opened his mouth and let the water flow in, consuming him. _

Aegon’s eyes shot open and he leapt up from his pillow with a sharp gasp. He clutched at this throat desperately, wondering if the water was still there. 

When he realized he was simply in his room, waking with the sun, he dropped back to the bed. Beads of sweat dropped from his forehead down his face and into his mouth. And as he tasted the salt, he looked to his window, listening to the waves outside. 

And all he wanted was to dive into the water. 

* * *

He did not even bother to break his fast that morning, heading directly to his dragon. Something was pushing Aegon to go to him, more so than usual, but he did not know why. 

His mother had asked him to not fly as much as he had been. But it was simply not possible. He’d felt their bond since the moment Rhaenys handed him the small creature on Dragonstone just a few years ago. But it was only since he mounted him to fly that the bond felt unbreakable and impossibly deep. 

Aegon found the increasingly-large black beast purring blissfully under the shade of trees in a part of the garden they had specially cleared for the dragons. Abrax lifted his head quickly, his wings beginning to flutter slowly, when he sensed and then saw Aegon approaching.

“Come, Abrax,” the Crown Prince greeted his winged-companion. Knowing what Aegon wanted immediately, the dragon lowered himself so the young man could climb on top. “Let us not waste this day.” 

And so they took the skies, soaring above the capital, first heading to fly over the Kingswood. But it was not land or forest that Aegon wanted, not even the cool but harsh bite of the wind along his face could temper that. And so he directed Abrax to what was calling to him. 

They turned and flew east and soon enough, they were over the sea. The Red Keep wasn’t so far off, but they were further out than they had ever flown before, Aegon realized. The large building appeared like the tiniest of children’s toys from where they were presently. 

As they flew above the waters, Abrax dipped lower, attempting to catch fish, but they kept swimming lower and evading the beast. Normally the dragon dove deep into the water to catch water prey, but with Aegon atop him, he would not do that. 

_ We have been flying for so long _, Aegon realized. What had he been thinking? He could feel Abrax’s hunger, his desperation for food. And with each failed attempt to catch fish, the dragon grew more frustrated and angrier. 

Aegon turned to look over his shoulder and could see the Red Keep faintly in the distance, but it was still quite far off and it would take time to go back there. He winced, feeling his dragon’s hunger beat with more furor. Abrax let out a desperate cry after another attempt to catch fish that left his claws empty. 

As they rode lower this time with the dragon’s chest submerged in the water, Abrax’s claws dragged deeper, and Aegon felt the cool spray along his face. When he thought about it later, the Prince still wasn’t quite sure what changed in that moment. But it was then that he closed his eyes, and let his thoughts drift down to the watery depths below them. 

He reached one hand out, feeling the water as it continued to splash against them. And as he closed his eyes, he could not resist the impulse to memorize the rhythm of the water’s pulse, one that his own heart and breath seemed to mimic. 

There was another pang of hunger from Abrax then, and Aegon gasped, feeling like his heart leapt out from his body and as though all breath had left him at once.

It was immediate - a fish was pushed out of the water into the air, and Abrax roasted and caught it in his mouth, devouring it quickly with immense satisfaction. Aegon could feel that the winged beast’s hunger was sated, even if just slightly so. Adrenaline pulsed through him along with the continued push of the dragon for more, and the energy shot through him once more. It was as though the water was sweeping through his veins. Aegon closed his eyes again, letting his pulse and its rhythm drive his energy to the sea. This time a larger fish was pushed to the air, and Abrax caught and held it in his mouth. It was clear he wanted to take his time with this piece and so Aegon directed him back to the shore. 

When they landed back in Abrax’s garden perch, Aegon dismounted quickly. The dragon tossed the large fish into the air, sending a stream of harsh flame after it, before it landed on the ground, charred and roasted to the beast’s liking. 

He began to devour the fish, picking at it methodically as Aegon looked on in shock. 

_ What just happened?? _

He began to pace, still looking at the fish with wide eyes. 

_ Surely I didn’t...it must have leapt from the water. Both fish did... _

Except he was quite positive that he had, in fact, somehow forced the water to push the fish out for Abrax. 

He wished Rhaenys were here, that he could speak to her immediately. He knew she would have answers - or at least suggestions or ideas of where to obtain answers. _That was what she did - find answers._

“Aegon!” a voice called to him. He turned quickly to see Margaery walking to him, guards behind her. 

He took a deep breath as relief filled him. He’d been angry and reluctant when he was first told that he was already betrothed. And when he met Margaery the first time, they were only just leaving their years of childhood behind. He’d been suspicious of her at first - _her grandmother was responsible for that, of course. _

But they’d opened up to each other over the past few years and managed to form a bond, one borne out of respect and, luckily, attraction. She was cunning but with kindness in her heart - and he knew that there were far worse partners than that. 

“I saw you flying back and wanted to come see you,” Margaery greeted him, wearing a light gown of green that complimented her soft brown hair and eyes. Aegon closed the gap between them with just a few long strides and capturing her face in his hands so he could swiftly press his lips to hers in a deep kiss. He normally would not have indulged in such a large display of affection in public, but he was still feeling the high of whatever had transpired above the water and could not stop himself. And luckily this area of the garden was largely shut off to most people. 

Margaery gasped into his mouth before reciprocating eagerly. After a few moments, she pulled back with surprised eyes and a small but content smile. 

“Well, good day to you too,” she breathed. “Perhaps I should greet you after all of your flying trips.” She ran her fingers through his silver-blonde hair, gazing up at him, and Aegon sighed, closing his eyes and leaning into her touch. 

“My apologies,” he said, letting out a slow breath. “I just…” 

“I am not complaining,” Margaery replied easily. Then she looked at him more closely. “Are you well?” 

He gazed at her deeply, studying her large, doe eyes and their warm brown depths. Then his hand traced along her cheek slowly, softly as he contemplated how to answer. _She will think me mad if I tell her what happened - or what I think happened. _As much as they cared for each other, even the appearance - the hint - of madness was not something he could risk. 

“I am well. We were simply out longer than I meant to be, and I find myself sun-drenched and thirsty,” he told her steadily. “Help me find sustenance?” the prince asked hopefully.

She pressed her lips to his quickly, softly, nipping his lower lip with her teeth. “Always.” 

As they began walking back, Aegon looked back at Abrax before his eyes drifted further out to the great expanse of water that lay beyond. He thought of his dream and then a memory came to him, of when Uncle Oberyn had taken him and Rhaenys to Essos and they visited the Rhoyne. 

_ “Remember, you are as much the sun and the blood of Nymeria, of the Rhoynar, as you are dragons,” Oberyn had told them both, as he crouched down along the river’s edge and brushed his hand along the top. “The ancient Rhoynar had wizards and witches who protected their people with the magic of the water during the Turtle Wars, flooding any threat that came.” Then he smiled wickedly at them, as he always did when he told a dramatic tale. “And water can be just as powerful as fire, little ones.” _

Aegon’s pace began to slow as the memory sunk in deeper. _ Surely I am mad to think that this is...Perhaps there are books in our library here or perhaps in Sunspear… _

_ Or the Citadel. _

A quick shiver passed through him. The maesters had no love of magic, this he knew. When the dragons had been born, they feared more for an attack by them than any house in Westeros. 

And if he were to now ask for texts on..._ ‘water magic.’ _

Then a solution struck him. He stopped their walk quickly and turned to face his betrothed. 

“Margaery, I need to send a letter to Oldtown. And it cannot be intercepted.” 

She looked at him seriously, studying his face carefully before she gave him a slow, small nod. “I can arrange that, my love. Who is this letter for?” 

A small smile began to tug at Aegon’s lips. 

* * *

As he folded the raven scroll, Aegon hoped the few and vague words he’d employed would be enough to convey exactly what he sought. The recipient was a clever one, he assured himself, and could be trusted to deduce its true intent.

_ Alleras, _

_ Your presence is humbly requested in the capital. If you could bring any information or texts that relate to the Turtle Wars, redirected rivers and the source of their tides, I would be most obliged. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After this, we'll be back North for a couple of chapters, then back to King's Landing. And after that, the next time we're in KL, Jon and Rhaenys will have returned!
> 
> Also...magic will now become more and more prevalent.
> 
> Aaand...drop a kudos and comment if you're into this fic!


End file.
